Fractures
by Miri1984
Summary: The Chantry is suspicious of the Wardens. Anders and Neria find out things about their pasts. Apostates and Malificar abound. Alistair faces political challenges. I am temporarily unable to write summaries. Set in the Losses/Consequences universe.
1. Chapter 1

Mornings were not her strong point. They never had been, but as an apprentice she'd been forced into a routine that she'd begrudgingly accepted. Once her glory days as Irving's pet had passed, however, she'd sunk back into her old habits of sleeping late and it was difficult to convince her body otherwise, even though these days sleeping late meant two people getting into trouble rather than just one.

Anders had experimented with ways to make the early morning wake ups more bearable - mostly _extremely _successfully to her mind, although awake and alert didn't necessarily mean decent and useful to others. This morning she was woken by the gentle tingling of lightning on her toes - beautifully relaxing, usually, although today it was spoiled by the raspy swipe of a tongue across her cheek.

"Pounce!" she opened her eyes to see the yellow eyes of the cat directly in front of her, the tongue delicately being withdrawn after its gentle ministrations to her skin. She gritted her teeth and shoved the cat aside, looking down the bed to see Anders sheepishly crouched at the foot. He had pulled back the covers to deliver his lightning spell to her naked toes and had obviously been too distracted to notice Pounce jump up to her chest.

"Sorry my love," he said. "He's sneaky that way."

She twisted her lips in a smile. "I know why you put the cat door in," she said. "But sometimes I think you should get a lock for it."

Pounce, sensing that his status was in danger, jumped up to Anders' shoulder and rubbed his cheek against that of the blond mage, purring loudly. "Oh, don't listen to her Ser-Pounce-A-Lot," he said in his special talking-to-animals voice. "She loves you just as much as I do."

Neria swung her legs over the side of the bed. At least the Pounce wake up was a fast one - it always brought her to alertness more readily than Anders' other methods which tended to start languidly and end... with both of them back in bed usually.

"Joining today," she said, reaching for her robes. It was an important one - this time they had three apostate mages who had arrived at the keep a week ago requesting to join the wardens. The first apostate recruits since Anders. Sigrun, fed up with the lack of mages in the wardens - especially given their most recent darkspawn troubles - had finally bowed to Anders suggestion that they subtly let it be known that apostates were welcome. Well, certain types of apostates any way. The King and Queen had let Sigrun know that blood mages were not an option - not unless they wanted to bring the Chantry down on them.

Anders, still kneeling next to the bed, caught her hand as she gathered her robes and kissed her palm. "Should be interesting," he murmured, his lips still touching her skin. "Apostates abound at the Vigil," he continued, making his way up to her elbow. "We'll outnumber the other mages if all three of them survive."

She shivered as heat bloomed on her skin where his lips touched. "I hope you're not including me in that number," she said, slightly breathless. "I was never an apostate."

"Really?" he said, looking up at her and quirking his eyebrow, his chin resting in the crook of her elbow. "I could have sworn you were..." a slight tingle of power bloomed in the hand that cupped hers - warm and pulsing... "dangerous..." he breathed, letting the power flare outwards to wash up her arm like water.

She met his power with her own in a practiced dance that enveloped them both in light and warmth and she leaned down to touch her lips to his.

They were thus pleasantly engaged when there was a knock at the door. "Blast," Anders swore into her neck. "I forgot I asked for a wake up visit today."

She grinned at him, her fingers currently tangled in his hair. Pounce, disgusted with the carry on, had retreated under the bed.

"Which of us is more decent?" she said. It was a moot question. Anders still had smallclothes on, but was by no means decent. He shrugged at her and flipped to the side, burrowing under the covers on the bed. She rolled her eyes and pulled a dressing robe over her before padding to the door, opening it to find Nathaniel studiously examining his fingernails. He was impeccably neat and alert, as always. Neria couldn't help but run her fingers through her short black hair, attempting to smooth it into some sort of order.

"May I assume the two of you are awake?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Assume away," she said, smiling. Nathaniel's eyes twinkled.

"Still needed the wake up visit, though, I see."

"How is it, Ser Howe, that you can come to lewd conclusions about me without even seeing my face?" Anders voice came from somewhere under the covers.

"Experience, Anders," the rogue said, giving Neria a wink. "Sigrun said she'll see you in the audience hall as soon as you're decent. So.. shall I tell her a few hours?"

"Go hump a nug," Anders muttered back at him. Nathaniel laughed and turned to go. Neria shut the door and shrugged off her gown, wadding it into a ball and throwing it at her lover with some force.

"Up," she said. "And decent. In ten minutes. I don't want the new recruits thinking we're all indolent and decadent."

Anders' head poked out from under the covers. "But we _are," _he said. "Or at least, I'm working on it." He scrambled out of the bed and started gathering his own robes. They dressed quickly, Neria running the brush through Anders' hair and tying it back - a task she'd taken over since moving into his room a month ago. She loved the feel of the long blond strands and he seemed to enjoy the attention in much the same way Pounce liked being scratched behind the ears. He shaved while she attended to her own hair, tying the short braids that kept it out of her eyes.

Anders clipped his gold earring into place and spun on the spot. "Do I look sufficiently rakish?" he said. She was constantly surprised at how much pride he took in his appearance, but she didn't mind it at all - there was something to be said for a man who never smelled of anything other than soap, fresh sweat and the slight tang of lyrium. The occasional splattering of darkspawn blood when they were on a mission only added to the novelty. Even the male mages at the tower who were never more than a floor away from a bath tended to be more offensive on the nose than her apostate warden.

She grinned and leaned up to kiss him soundly, all the response he required apparently as his arms came around her waist and he lifted her from the floor, returning the kiss enthusiastically. She kicked her legs weakly against him and he released her, setting her gently on the floor. "Shall we then?" she said. Pounce, sensing there was something interesting afoot, jumped back to Anders' shoulder and they made their way down to the audience hall.

* * *

Joinings were by no means common, even with warden numbers climbing steadily, and Sigrun liked for the senior wardens to be in attendance. Nathaniel and surprisingly Oghren were there already, as were Gabrielle and Garic. Neria had attained senior warden status, much to her surprise. Technically Anders was the head of the mage wardens in Amaranthine, but even he acknowledged that he was terrible at it. Sigrun had privately told Neria that she was in charge of the mages and Anders had breathed a sigh of relief when she'd sheepishly told him. However, as one of the first four wardens appointed after the blight Anders was still looked on with respect by the wardens and his senior status was never questioned.

He was an excellent teacher, as well. Even Neria's rudimentary healing skills had improved exponentially since reaching the keep and spending some time studying with him, although study times often ended up in more recreational activities if the tutoring was in private.

The three apostate mages entered not long after, looking nervous. Two were women and one was a man - all of them had the thin, haunted look of fugitives. None of them were dressed in mage robes, but Neria could feel the potential power coming from them and felt a twinge of excitement - some of the skills they had learned where certainly _not _commonly taught in the Tower - one of the women, Helena - was a shapeshifter and the man Timothy had somehow acquired the ability to wield arms and wear armour. The small amount they had managed to learn from the two mages in their short week at the vigil had set Neria's scholarly instincts to burning and she hoped fervently that neither of them would become victims of the joining. She had recognised the man, she realised, as someone who had left to fight at Ostagar and not returned. The other two weren't familiar. The shapeshifting woman, although human, had the tattoos of a Dalish and Neria was almost as curious about her background as she was about her magical skills.

"Very interesting, this bunch," Anders said, reading the line of her thoughts. "I'm surprised they managed to travel together for so long."

"Safety in numbers," Neria said. She also noticed that the third woman, without the Dalish tattoos - Serena, Neria remembered - stood very close to the man. Traveling together wasn't the only thing they'd been doing, it seemed.

Anders took her hand as Sigrun spoke the words of the joining. None of the apostates even flinched when they were told there was a chance they could die in the process and Neria nodded to herself. There were things far worse than being a warden for a mage, and she had the feeling that all three of these had faced them.

Timothy took the cup first. When he fell backwards there was a palpable sigh of relief from the senior wardens - his skills were unique as far as anyone had been able to tell and to have them destroyed in the joining would have been a tragic waste. Serena next, then Helena. All three of them survived. Neria was overjoyed, and Anders grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. "We're taking over," he whispered to her. "Just you watch!"

She tickled his ribs with her free hand before the two of them made their way to the unconscious figures. They were twitching and moaning already - in the grips of their first darkspawn dreams. Anders held a hand over each of them in turn, making certain that the joining had been successful and they were out of danger. When he was certain, the three mages were moved to the three cots that had been prepared in the audience hall. Sigrun liked them to wake up comfortable - or at least as comfortable as one can be after ingesting poison and being plagued by nightmares of darkspawn.

Garic and Gabrielle took their leave, and Nathaniel, Sigrun, Anders, Oghren and Neria seated themselves on the steps of the dais to await the new wardens.

"King Alistair is less than pleased about this," Sigrun said conversationally. "Miranda wrote to me to warn us not to blab about where these mages came from."

"I'd guessed that already," Anders said. "Once a Templar..."

Sigrun rolled her eyes. "She was sure to point out that his reasons were nothing to do with that, Anders," she said. "He's worried that the Chantry is going to start thinking the wardens are a haven for apostates and malificar."

Anders cocked his head on one side. "Funny. I thought the Chantry already thought that."

"The novelty of the order is wearing off," Nathaniel said. He'd drawn his dagger and was sharpening it with his whetstone as they sat, seemingly entirely absorbed in the task. Neria had never met anyone who could stay as still as Nathaniel when he chose. "It seems six years is enough time to forget a blight."

"Sodding Chantry wouldn't have dared question us back when we first moved here," Oghren rumbled.

Neria looked at Sigrun, who's blue eyes were troubled. She knew the dwarf thought of the wardens slipping influence as her fault. Without the Hero of Ferelden at the helm they had lost some of their lustre. People had started calling Alistair the Templar King as well as the Warden King - preferring to think of his chantry connections rather than his role against the blight. The order, which had been looked upon with awe and admiration by the people of Ferelden, was once again slipping into the shadows.

According to the Orlesian wardens stationed with them, this was not a bad thing. No one wanted the order under close scrutiny - there were too many secrets that needed to be kept. And truly those recruits who came to the Vigil with stars in their eyes and hearts full of griffons and archdemons rarely made it to the joining. Nowadays people who turned up at the Vigil's gates tended to have the same haunted, furtive look as these three apostates. They tended to have the skills of the scrapper rather than the knight - be more inclined to hide in shadows and strike swiftly than roar a warcry and wade into the fray.

They still had a steady stream of dwarfs, however, who thought fighting darkspawn on the surface almost as worthy as joining the legion, and another trip around Ferelden was planned for the summer to drum up more legitimate members. Sigrun was doing all she could to maintain their numbers and reputation. They still had work to do - there were pockets of talking darkspawn and entrances to the deep roads that needed to be sealed. But there was a sense of disappointment too - that they were wardens in the time least likely to be needed.

_In peace, vigilance, _Neria thought to herself. Being a mage, being free of the Tower, having Anders and a group of people she considered more than just friends surrounding her - she couldn't have been happier. She knew Anders felt the same. She only hoped the former legion scout could bring it in her heart to feel the same way eventually.

They needed Zevran to pay a visit. He always managed to cheer her up.

Helena, the shapeshifter, was the first to stir. Anders hopped up and went to her cot, helping her gently to her feet and talking softly to her. Timothy was next, and Neria went to him, power ready to help him with the inevitable joining hangover. When Serena awoke Sigrun gave a big sigh and got to her feet. It was time to deliver the _bad _news.


	2. Chapter 2

The mages met for a meal the day after the joining. Neria wanted more of an opportunity to get to know them, and hoped that any true concerns they had over the downsides of being wardens would be raised.

As it happened, none of the former apostates seemed at all worried by their truncated lifespans, or the knowledge that they would never have children. Serena was slightly concerned about the prospect of becoming a ghoul or a broodmother, but Neria assured her that female wardens - at least in Ferelden - were not expected to go to their Calling alone. _That _rule had come in very, very early in the former Commander's tenure.

"You need to have some idea of how to use a sword first," Timothy was saying to the gathered mages. "Have any of you ever had cause to use one?"

Anders lifted a hand, a wry smile on his face. Timothy grinned at nodded at him. "I would have thought you might," he said. "Considering."

"Heard of me, have you?"

"Let's just say your antics were discussed at great length in the tower after your escape. Among those of us who wished to follow, in any case."

"Yes, well, when you've been drained of mana it's nice to have a back up. I was never really any good though - hence the frequent recaptures."

"Where did you learn the spells?" Neria asked. She'd been dying to ever since they arrived.

Timothy leant back in his chair, crossing booted feet over each other on the table. "I hid out in the Brecilian Forest after I left Ostagar. Thought I might be able to find the Dalish, perhaps beg their protection. Of course I never found the _Dalish. _Found some werewolves though..."

Anders perked up. "Commander Cousland mentioned meeting werewolves in that forest. She said she freed them from..."

"Yes she did. And a good thing too. If she hadn't I'd still be furry and fuzzy myself."

_"You_ were a werewolf?" Neria gasped. "How?"

"The curse got me not long after I got to the forest. Luckily Swiftrunner - he was the leader of the werewolves - found me before the Dalish managed to skewer me with arrows. I spent a good four months with them in the ruins there, learning how to survive - deal with the pain of the curse. It was... educational. But the most educational thing I found was a phylactery."

"A phylactery?" Anders said, the hint of a sneer in his voice. "How could that be educational?"

"This one was incredibly old," Timothy continued. "It contained a spirit - not just blood. The spirit called itself an arcane warrior. Apparently the elves used to have many mages that wore mail and wielded blades - but the art died out after the loss of their homelands and the exalted marches."

"So what happened?" Anders asked. Neria could tell he was just as caught up in the story as the rest of them now.

"The spirt had been trapped for hundreds - perhaps thousands of years. It wanted to be released and I offered it the way out. In return - it transferred its memories to me."

"That's amazing," Neria said. "So even in your werewolf form you were able to..."

"I couldn't use magic then, no. But the memories were still there when Miranda Cousland broke the curse."

The other mages were just as fascinated and began talking animatedly about who would be best suited to learn the skills Timothy brought.

"Not me," Neria said quickly, giving Timothy a grin. "I'm just a bit too little to be wearing armour I think."

Anders squeezed her knee. "You pack a pretty powerful punch when you want to," he said.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "You'd be good," she said. "You've got the height and reach."

"I'd have no objection to learning new magic," Anders said. "But I think Branwen would be our best bet for actually mastering the swordcraft."

Neria eyed the blond woman who had been one of the recruits to leave the circle at the same time as her a year ago. Branwen was tall for a woman - she nearly matched Anders in height.

Timothy was eyeing her as well. "Strength isn't really necessary," he said. "That's the point of the spells we learn. But height and reach _are _useful. Branwen is the best suited physically - after you, ser." Timothy nodded at Anders.

Anders gave an easy grin and leaned back in his chair. "I'll learn the spells," he said. "So I can teach others if I need to. In fact I think we should all learn the spells and have our own sets of armour and weapons that we can fall back on in emergencies. But I'm afraid I'm too old and set in my ways to change the way I fight on the field."

"Old and set in your ways?" Neria said.

"I'm nearly thirty, Neria," he said. "Old, old, old."

"Yes, and wrinkly and impotent too, I suppose."

He fixed her with a heated glare that sent a shock of feeling to her stomach. "You'll pay for that one, later."

A nervous cough from Branwen broke the mood and she tore her eyes away from her lover's face back to the group of mages. "Fine then," she said. "Timothy, I'm very glad to have you with us. Branwen I might assign the two of you to work together from now on - you can fill Timothy in on Grey Warden business and he can tutor you in Arcane Warriorness. The rest of us..." she sighed. "Well, Zevran's due back from Denerim in the next week or so. He's offered to tutor before. I'll ask Sigrun if we can borrow him for some mage-weapon training."

"Oh, he'll love that," Anders said dryly. The elf delighted in flirting with him. Come to think of it, he delighted in flirting with everyone - if Anders wasn't in a receptive mood he would cheerfully turn his attentions to Neria instead - which never failed to get Anders riled.

Sigrun thought it was hilarious. Neria supposed being dead made jealousy seem a little like a waste of time.

Once the meal was finished and the mages dispersed Anders and Neria made their way out to the keep's walls. They often walked there - as senior wardens Sigrun liked for them to be seen taking an interest in the non-warden soldiers. Neria liked it there as well - even in the crisp spring air. After years in the Tower the novelty of being outside hadn't worn off yet.

"Nearly time to make that trip up to the coast," Anders said as they walked, draping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer. She leaned into his warmth. He always seemed to give off extra heat and she loved it.

"Absolutely," she said. Sigrun had hinted that the wardens all deserved some time off in the near future. Nathaniel had already taken a week to visit his sister and nephew in Amaranthine.

They walked in comfortable silence for a while. When they reached the gates, however, they were greeted by a small commotion. The guards had stopped a wagon on its way into the keep, driven by a single, hooded woman. They stopped on the battlements and looked down to see who it could be. It was late in the day for someone to be arriving at the keep - they wouldn't have time to move on to Amaranthine to find lodging.

The woman was gesturing and talking animatedly to the guards. Neria saw one of them look up towards the keep, then ask several more questions. The wagon driver was nodding firmly and the guard finally motioned for the gates to be opened.

"Let's go and see who it is," Anders said. "I know Mistress Woolsey is still agitating for more merchants to trade here - it would be good if there was another."

Neria agreed and they made their way down to the gates, where the wagon was being driven through.

The guards motioned Anders over as soon as they saw him. The driver of the wagon was busy with the horse. Neria felt Anders tense a little as they approached. "I know that wagon," he said softly. She looked up to find his hazel eyes unusually troubled. The woman seemed satisfied with the horse and turned to them as they approached, pushing back her hood to reveal waves of long dark hair and a face that struck Neria as familiar.

Anders had frozen solid and she felt his hand clutch hers tight enough to hurt. The woman had cocked her head on one side and was smiling slightly at them and it was the _smile - _half uncertain, half cheeky that made Neria gasp and realise that this woman _had _to be..

"Maeve," Anders breathed.

"Anders," the woman said. "It's really you?"

Neria looked up at Anders again. He had gone white. She squeezed his hand until he looked down at her and blinked. "Neria," he said, clearing his throat a little. "Um... this... is my sister."


	3. Chapter 3

She was taller. Of course she was taller - it had been nearly... what? Fifteen years. It had been fifteen years since he'd seen her. She'd been ten years old the day he and his mother had left Highever. She'd worn her hair in pigtails.

She'd not known why they were leaving. Only Papa had known about the sickness - only Papa had known about Anders' magic. Neither Maeve nor Jairo would ever have known why it was their mother had gone out with Anders that one day and come back unconscious, alone. Carried by Templars.

He didn't quite know what to do. His interactions with her as a little sister had consisted almost entirely of wanting to be somewhere other than where she was - or pulling her hair - or when she was very young indeed playing blocks or chasey. What did grown ups usually say to their siblings?

"Anders, I've been looking for you," Maeve was saying. There was still a smile on her face. _She _would know what grown up siblings said to each other. Presuming Jairo was still around somewhere.

"You have?" he said. "I..." _haven't been looking for you_.. he thought. It didn't seem right to say it.

"Yes. I went to the Tower first. They told me where you'd be. Although that First Enchanter man didn't seem particularly pleased about it."

Anders raised an eyebrow and couldn't help the small smile that crept onto his lips. "No, I imagine he wasn't," he said. "So..." he glanced down at Neria and shook himself. "Sorry. Maeve, this is my.. ah... friend, Neria. She's another Grey Warden. Head of the mages here actually."

Maeve turned her gaze onto Neria and Anders was inexplicably relieved to see a sunny smile spread across his sister's face. Relieved, and pained. She looked so much like their mother. "Pleased to meet you, Neria," she said. "I've brought goods to trade," she motioned towards her wagon, "although that's not the main reason I'm here."

Anders suspected as much. He'd been a warden for nearly six years, and Alistair had lifted the restrictions on mage families visiting the Tower. If Maeve - or Jairo or even father had wanted to get in touch with him they would have been able to find him easily enough.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Is it..."

"Father," Maeve said. "Yes, I'm afraid so. He says he's dying. I figure you'd know the truth of that better than I."

Anders pursed his lips. "Is he still in Highever?"

Maeve nodded. Anders looked up towards the keep. He'd been meaning to take Neria to that little place on the coast... Highever wasn't really that much further.

But seeing his... seeing _Felix _again made him nervous. There was a reason _he'd _not sought out his family in the six years since he gained his freedom. Granted, part of that reason was because he'd been traipsing all around Thedas with the King and Queen - and fighting darkspawn... but he knew if it had been a priority he would have made the time to go.

Nathaniel had tried to find his sister _as soon _as he found out she was alive. He winced at the memory.

One of the guards came to lead the horse to the stables. The wagon was pushed up into the carriage house after Maeve had retrieved a pack. Anders felt Neria nudge him and he took the pack from her, motioning her to follow him back up into the keep.

"Sigrun will arrange a room for you for tonight," Anders said. "We usually have an evening meal together - I hope you'll join us?"

"With all the wardens?"

Neria laughed. "No," she said. "We... ah.. have strange eating habits. Wardens, I mean. The evening meal tends to be a long affair. The rest of the wardens eat in the mess hall... and then again in the kitchen sometimes."

"Again?"

Anders grinned at Neria, grateful that she'd re-entered the conversation. "We have big appetites," he said. "One of the side effects of being a warden. Not a bad one, in my opinion. It's always nice to have room for more cheese. Or more cake."

Maeve's eyes glinted. "Mmm. A pity I'm only trading herbs and poultices."

"You still trade poultices?" Anders said. "Even without..."

"Without Mama? Yes. Jairo has..." she glanced at Neria, then shrugged. "Jairo is like you, Anders. He has the same talents."

Anders' mouth dropped open in an oh of understanding. "How...?"

"Did we keep him hidden?" Maeve's expression grew pensive. "Mama left a lot of notes behind. She knew... she knew there was a chance Jairo and I could end up the same. She knew there was a chance she wouldn't be around to help us."

Jairo would be a couple of years younger than Maeve, only. Anders felt a stab of envy that was quickly tempered. Anders had more freedom now as a mage than Jairo would ever have. He could openly practice his magic without fear of Templar interference. Jairo...

"How does he do it?"

His sister grinned again. "He's pretty good, trust me," she said. "Although again, you'd be better able to judge that than we are."

They were in the audience hall, Maeve slightly in front of them. She stopped an turned to face them, looking up at Anders with a serious expression on her face. "Will you come? To Highever I mean?"

Anders glanced down at Neria, realising suddenly that he was clutching her hand, probably too tightly for comfort. She smiled at him, her dark eyes equal parts concerned and encouraging.

"Of course I'll come," he heard himself say.

Maeve let out a sigh of relief. "Thank the Maker," she said. "Papa would have thrown a fit if I hadn't managed to convince you. Will your Commander allow it?"

"Well, let's go and ask her," Anders said.

They walked up to Sigrun's office in silence. She was normally there, with Varel or Nathaniel usually. This time she was sitting at her desk (slightly lowered for her, although it was a good way to get a swift kick to the head if anyone mentioned it) with her head in her hands.

When they knocked and entered she didn't look up. "Go away," she said. "I'm dead already."

Anders laughed and she looked up. He heard Maeve's gasp - Sigrun _did _look a little fierce, with her legion tattoos, although Anders always thought the effect was somewhat dampened by the cute black pigtails she wore to keep her hair out of her face.

Maeve had seen plenty of dwarfs before, he knew. They had made enough trips to Orzammar as children. But the Legion didn't come to the surface. As far as he knew, Sigrun was the only one who ever had. "Anders," Sigrun said. "I hope you're not here to give me work to do."

"Actually, no," he said. "I've come to ask for some leave."

"Right now? We've just got our new mages..."

"Branwen has them in hand," he said. "And when Zevran gets here, he can... handle them as well."

Sigrun grinned suddenly. "Now why does that sound interesting? Who's your friend?"

Anders stepped aside and let Maeve come forward. "Commander Sigrun, this is my sister, Maeve. She's come to ask me to visit her.. our father."

Sigrun got to her feet, her expression curious. "You have _family _Anders?" she said. "Family that _acknowledge _you?"

He rolled his eyes. Maeve, however, grinned. "We don't talk about him much," she said. "But Father was very insistent this time around. It's been fifteen years after all."

Sigrun looked back at him. "Yes, he is getting on a bit," she said. "Well, Anders, if you want leave you can have it. How long?"

He looked at his sister. It was a week trip to Highever.

"I can only speak for me," Maeve said. "But I'd love to see you for more than a day or so. Can you stay a week?"

He swallowed, glancing at Neria. He hadn't asked her to come with him. He didn't know if she would if he did. He was suddenly tongue tied in a way he hadn't been since before he went to the tower. Ask a woman to bed him? No problems. In the tower you didn't even need to _ask _sometimes. But ask her to meet your family? Would Sigrun allow the two senior mages to leave the keep for that long?

"Can I take Neria?" he blurted suddenly. _Andraste's tits, Anders, you sound like a five year old. Can Neria come Mama? Puleeeaase..._

To his relief both Sigrun and Neria burst into laughter. "Yes," Sigrun said. "If she'll go. As you say, Branwen is competent to deal with the mages for now. And I always assumed you'd be taking her when you went on leave in any case. Three weeks then?"

"Right," Anders mumbled, looking down, sure the heat from his skin would keep the room warm for days after they left. "Thanks. Um. Well. Dinner tonight?"

"In the guest dining room," Sigrun said. She glanced out the window. "In about an hour. Your sister can have a room in the west wing." She leaned behind her to ring for a servant. Maeve left soon after, with a promise to see them at dinner, and Anders and Neria made their way back to their room.

She was silent. Anders felt like a complete idiot. _Here's my long lost sister. I know we've only been sleeping together for a couple of months but do you want to meet my family? I haven't seen them for fifteen years. For all I know my stepfather thinks I killed my mother._

He could still see her face, restful until they'd broken the connection between them, suddenly twisting in pain as the healing magic was cut off. He didn't know if he'd hurt her - he had no way of finding out but he had fought _so hard _to get back to her and it had been totally useless.

_...I failed her._

He'd stopped in the corridor. Neria was standing in front of him, he realised, with one hand on his arm. "Anders," she said again. He realised she'd been speaking. "Did you hear me?"

He grimaced. "Would you be offended if I said no?"

She smiled softly. "No."

"Maybe you should be." She punched him. "Ow. What was that for?"

"What's the matter sparkle fingers?"

Oghren's nickname for him made him frown. "I.. "

She snorted. "Come on you," she said. She grabbed his hand and dragged him the rest of the way to their room. Once there she busied herself with his robes, unclipping the belts that held it in place. He was mute and paralyzed. For a moment. Until she pushed the robe off his shoulders and pulled it down past his chest. Then he was suddenly, painfully aroused.

"What...?" he said.

She ignored him and started to nibble her way across his chest. She was just the right height to... _oh Maker... _

His paralysis melted and he grasped her shoulders for a moment, before frantically unbuttoning her robe and pushing it off her shoulders, leaning down to nibble at her neck even as her tongue drew wet circles around his nipples. She lifted her head as his lips met her neck and arched against him, making him groan into her soft skin as he tugged the robe down over her hips. He slid his hands over her backside, loving the feel of the smooth, rounded skin and deftly pulled down her smallclothes. She pulled back from him and kicked the remnants of her clothes to the side, pulling off her breastband. He quickly divested himself of his own robes before pulling her back with him onto the bed.

They tussled for a moment, both trying to get the upper hand, before he felt a flare of magic and was suddenly immobile. _That _was new. Paralysis? During sex? But she had him at her mercy now, on his back, and nipped and nibbled down to his erection before releasing the spell and allowing him movement.

Now of course, he wouldn't have moved if she _paid _him to. Her lips encircled him and moved downwards and he tangled his fingers in her hair, throwing his head back and moaning as she teased and licked him to a state of frenzy.

He was getting towards the dangerous zone but couldn't seem to bring himself to pull her upwards. Luckily, she lifted her head and crawled up to lie beside him on the bed and kiss him deeply. He kissed back enthusiastically and pushed her onto her back, spreading her legs and reaching down to feel how ready she was before thrusting home with a sigh that was half groan. She writhed underneath him, gasping and crying out as they moved. There was nothing gentle in it and it was over quickly, but it was, he realised as he fell to the side on the bed, gasping for breath, _exactly _what he had needed.

"Now," she said after a moment. "What's wrong?"

He laughed. "I'm sorry," he said. "I guess I came off a little stupid back there."

"Just a little."

"I just wasn't sure... that you'd want to come with me. To Highever."

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "Meet the family? A bit intimidating I would have thought." He felt another flare of power and his hair was suddenly tingling with electricity.

"Intimidating?"

He laughed again. "I suppose I was being _really _stupid."

"Yes. Now we've got to get cleaned up and go to dinner."

He sighed dramatically, but levered himself to his feet and looked back down at her. Her hair was tousled, her body still flushed and sweaty from their lovemaking. She stretched sinuously as he watched and he let out a breath, dangerously close to being aroused again.

"You're truly magnificent," he said. She smiled up at him and rolled off the bed, standing up next to him and encircling his waist in her arms.

"Not half as magnificent as you," she murmured into his chest. He squeezed her closer and kissed the top of her head. "Now we've got about twenty minutes to get dressed and decent. Can't have your sister guessing what we get up to when she leaves us alone, can we?"

He grinned.


	4. Chapter 4

Dinner was remarkably pleasant, although Anders was struck with nostalgia and sadness. Maeve looked so much like Joscelyn - her hair, her eyes. She had Felix's dark skin, however, and he could see Nathaniel eyeing her with an undisguised interest that made his magic spark protectively. Still, she'd been traveling around Ferelden as a merchant for many years now and he guessed she was well able to take care of herself. And Nathaniel wasn't a bad sort, really. Considering.

He shot the rogue a warning look in any case and was rewarded with a cocked eyebrow and a half-smile. Anders lifted a finger under the table (Nathaniel was sitting next to him) and poked him, letting loose a small lightning bolt that hit Nathaniel in the thigh. The dark haired man jumped, then looked at Anders and rolled his eyes. The exchange passed unnoticed by anyone else.

They planned to leave early the next morning - no point in delays. Sigrun would call for Zevran to come and start training the remaining mages in swordcraft. Timothy and Helena would train the other mages in their more... questionable talents. Anders knew Neria was very interested in Helena's shapeshifting abilities - and part of him was a little excited by the prospect as well - of his Neria being able to become something else - although the temptation was not there for himself. He had his own magical animal. As if he could sense what his master was thinking, Pounce, who had taken his place on Anders shoulder, rubbed his cheek on Anders face, purring.

"Your cat?" Maeve said, between mouthfuls of a delightful Orlesian stew.

Anders smiled. "Yes. He was a gift from our former Commander."

Maeve's eyes shone suddenly. "The Hero of Ferelden?" she said. "First Enchanter Irving said you joined the wardens while she was here. I'm so envious! What was she like?"

Anders felt heat rush to his face, thinking of Miranda, and glanced at Neria who had a knowing look on her face. He wasn't entirely certain what to say. Beautiful? Deadly?

"Heroic," he said finally. Sigrun sniggered and Orghren belly laughed between swills of ale.

"Miranda Cousland was, and still is, one sodding magnificent woman," the red haired dwarf said. Anders closed his eyes and silently prayed to a deity he'd lost faith in years ago to stop the dwarf from saying anything to embarrass him.

"Oghren was with her during the blight," Sigrun said. Anders made a note to give her a new pot plant in thanks for jumping in before Oghren put his foot in it. "And I think Nathaniel even knew her before then, didn't you Nate?"

The eldest Howe nodded. "I knew her. But not well. She's a few years younger than me, after all. The extent of our acquaintance didn't go much beyond me trying to pull her hair."

"And we all know what _that _means..." Oghren said.

"Please, Oghren. I was ten years old at the time."

"Starting early. Always knew you were a..."

Sigrun chose that moment to clamp her hand over the red haired dwarf's mouth. "Oghren, we have company," she said, gently disentangling her arm as he tried to grab it and wiping it on her breeches. He grumbled a bit, but fell silent. Maeve, to Anders' relief, was grinning in undisguised amusement.

"So how's the shop doing?" Anders asked.

Maeve nodded. "Well," she said. "Father hasn't been traveling as much lately, though, so we've been trading mostly poultices rather than other things for a few years. It's more than enough to support all four of us, though."

Anders cocked an eyebrow. "Four?" he said. "Have you gotten married?"

She laughed. "No. Father... remarried a few years ago."

He had a full mouth, and he covered his surprise by chewing slowly. He was surprised to feel a sharp pang of hurt that Felix would have considered another woman after his mother. It shouldn't have surprised him. Felix was still young - he'd only been in his thirties when Mama died. Why shouldn't he have found another woman? But it did surprise him, and it did hurt him. One more thing to make it seem as though his mother had never existed.

Maeve was watching him, her dark eyes sympathetic, as though she could read what he was thinking. It was bizarre, seeing her again. It was also... nice. He wondered what Jairo was like now, and supposed he would find out. Another mage, although he wasn't about to announce that in front of Sigrun and Nathaniel. They were relaxed around him, and had no problem recruiting apostates, but he didn't think it would be the best idea to advertise that his brother was also one.

After dinner they dispersed again, to meet in the morning. He was almost tempted to ask Maeve to stay up with him in the dining room so they could talk in private. He had questions he wanted to ask. They could wait, though. Felix would better be able to answer them in any case.

At least, that's what he told himself. He didn't think he was afraid of the answers. Not any more.

Neria did her best to distract him from his thoughts once they were back in their room - and he certainly felt more relaxed when she was done.

"You never told me what happened - when you were taken," she said. Her head was resting on his chest and she was idly running her fingers through the blonde hair there. He paused for a long time, considering what to say. Neria had never asked about his family before - not since that time in the Crown and Lion - and he'd never asked about hers. It was habit, he supposed, from the Tower. Most apprentices found the separation easier to cope with if they didn't acknowledge the families they'd lost.

Anders had found it difficult, those first few months. Being older, he'd tried to ask some of the other apprentices about their families. He'd thought it would be what everyone wanted to talk about - that and escaping. He'd been wrong.

"She was sick," he said finally. "My mother. With a growth - I don't know if you've ever encountered them - they're more common than I thought. Insidious things. They take root in a part of the body and spread out - you think you've got it all and it sprouts up somewhere else. A bit like the taint, but inside the body rather than outside."

"I've never heard of them."

"Not surprising. Most people don't even know they've got them - when they fall ill they just think its a regular disease and it's always fatal if it isn't treated by a mage."

"Contagious?"

He shook his head. "No. I spent a lot of my time in the Tower studying it, actually. No one knows what causes it. No one knows how to fix it completely. I was working on it when the Templars found us."

"They stopped you?"

"Drained my mana right in the middle of a treatment," he said, his lip curling at the memory.

"But you were what... only fifteen?"

He shrugged. "I begged her to let me try to cure her. I knew I was strong enough. I was nearly there..." he clenched his fists. "They pulled me away. One of the Templars knocked me unconscious. The next thing I knew I was in a boat on the way to the Tower."

"What happened to your mother?"

"A month later one of the Templars let slip that she'd died. Not long after they took her back to Highever. I never really knew if they were telling the truth or just saying it to get to me. I.. was a fair bit of trouble for them. But Irving confirmed it for me. Much as I don't like the guy, he wouldn't lie about something like that."

She nodded. "No. I don't think he would."

They were silent for a few moments. Her small hand traced patterns on his stomach. He could sense she was thinking about what he'd said. He was close to sleep, the dramas of the day had left him drained and he was, despite the discussion, remarkably relaxed.

"You said you regretted things about your mother," she said finally. "After the fade - when we saw her there..."

"I should have been more careful," he said. "I should have started treating her earlier. I should have _noticed she was sick _long before it got to that stage. I know now that she would have been sick a long time before it started to show. The earlier these things are caught the better the chances of fixing them. If I'd been paying attention..."

She sat up and looked down at him, her dark eyes fierce. "Anders, you were _fifteen. _When I was fifteen I was trying to work out ways to dodge entropy without getting caught so I could snog boys in the mess hall, not trying to cure my mother of a terminal disease."

"Snog boys in the mess hall?" he said, quirking his eyebrow. "The storage rooms were much better for that. No wonder we never crossed paths in _that _way."

"Hey, I quite _liked _getting caught."

"Minx."

She grinned and brushed hair from his forehead. "You don't need to feel so guilty about something you couldn't have done anything about," she said softly. "Maeve obviously doesn't blame you."

"So I've just got to stop blaming myself?"

She nodded, smiling a little. "Easier said than done?"

He shrugged. "I'll let you know."


	5. Chapter 5

_Apologies for the delays that are happening with these chapters. Real life is really interfering at the moment! Thanks to all who have put me on favourites and alerts and everyone who keeps giving me reviews - you are all awesome. _

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The next morning they assembled in the courtyard after a large breakfast. Maeve was busy checking through the stock in the wagon when they arrived. She eyed them both with an incredulous expression when she saw what they were wearing.

"Mage robes? Staffs? You really think that's a good idea considering?"

Anders grinned and spun, showing off the robes, but more importantly, showing off the enormous white griffons embroidered on the back.

_"Warden _mage robes," Anders said. "We're actually allowed out. And you'd be surprised how few people attack you on the road if you're allowed to look like a mage. There are some advantages to being free."

Neria grinned at him. Her staff was far less ostentatious than Anders' - and shorter considering her height, but she was still obviously a mage and a warden.

"You should see the warden helmets for warriors," she said, turning her gaze to Maeve. "They have _wings. _Just be thankful our cowls don't."

"Cowls?"

Anders took his out of a pocket and waved it about. "Extremely silly looking mage hats, usually. But we managed to get ours redesigned somewhat - some of the ones they had at the tower..." he trailed off and Neria shuddered, remembering the apprentice cowl she'd been forced to wear. The warden cowls were simple dark blue, to match the robes, and looked pretty much like fine velvet hoods. None of the spangly bits or embroidery that the circle mages were forced to wear.

"I'm pretty sure the Templars had a hand in designing the circle mage cowls," Anders said. "Like cat bells. The more tinkly and pretty looking the easier to spot. I hated them."

"Not to mention they were hellish to get darkspawn blood out of," Neria added.

Maeve chuckled. "Your life is obviously very different to what it used to be, Anders."

"True," he said. "Whereas yours seems much the same."

She nodded, smiling. "True. Although I've not been sitting around doing nothing for fifteen years. Come, let's be off."

They clambered up into the wagon. Neria felt Anders draw in a breath and laugh a little. She looked at him questioningly.

"It's so much smaller," he said simply. Pounce jumped down from Anders' shoulder and prowled around the back of the wagon, before finding a bundle that was sufficiently soft to curl up on. Neria and Anders perched themselves up on the drivers' seat next to Maeve, who clucked her tongue to get the horse on the move.

"You know, we walked around Amaranthine for weeks, when I first became a warden," Anders said. "I never thought to ask the Commander why we didn't have horses or wagons until later."

"What was her explanation?"

"She said she'd not even thought about it," he said, laughing. "During the blight there wasn't a horse to be found for love or money. Darkspawn like the taste of them - a _lot _apparently. So she didn't think of getting any."

Neria laughed. "Well, since we fight darkspawn for a living, it might not be the best idea to have mounted wardens in any case."

"You need griffons back," Maeve said. "Or is the reason they're extent because darkspawn like the taste of them too?"

"Possibly," Anders said. He sighed a little, hazel eyes going wistful in a way that made Neria want to hug him. "Griffons. Now that would have been _fun. _Not to mention stylish. Imagine swooping in and firestorming a battlefield from the air. Lovely."

Maeve was eyeing her brother with an interesting look on her face. "Mother never taught you any offensive magic, did she?"

Anders shook his head. "She didn't even tell me it existed. Although I probably picked that up. I certainly managed to do some, before I knew about it. Did Jairo ever slip like that?"

"Once," Maeve said. "When he first started to show signs. Nothing like as badly as you did though. Luckily Father knew what to look for - he kept his eyes on both of us. You were a... learning experience for him."

Anders chuckled.

"You slipped?" Neria said. "I thought you were infallible."

He smirked at her. "In most things. But not in that."

"What happened?"

"Anders was being beat up by the local bully," Maeve said. "He zapped the poor kid with lightning."

"Poor kid? His father was a murdering smuggler. Undoubtably would have grown up to be the same. I did him and Highever a favour."

"I should point out in my brother's defense, that it took him two years to do it."

"And I should point out that I didn't actually zap him until he punched me."

"Lightning was your first manifestation then?" Neria asked.

"Actually no," Anders said. "Healing was."

Neria was surprised. Every apprentice and mage she'd met had manifested with an offensive spell. Even she - at five years old - had set something on fire. Anger tended to be the catalyst for magic in people with the talent. She'd never heard of a mage who had spontaneously healed someone before.

"Remember, Neria," Maeve said, noting her surprised expression, "that our mother was a healer. Anders was exposed to that sort of magic from birth."

"True," she said. "But most mages don't show their magic until they've been royally..."

"..annoyed?" Anders finished for her. She nodded and smiled. "I was strongly motivated to heal, at least that's what Mama told me. I brought her a bird - bitten by a fox or something. I wanted her to heal it. But she said to me afterwards that she barely had to do anything - I'd already done most of it myself."

"How old were you?"

"Four or five," he said, shrugging.

"And how old were you when you zapped the bully?"

"Eleven."

Neria shifted on the seat, thinking. "And your mother never hid her magic from you, did she? You knew about it - all of you?"

"I knew," Anders said. He looked at Maeve. She nodded.

"I don't remember being told as such," she said. "But we all knew she had some sort of special ability."

An idea was forming in Neria's head and she chewed on her lip.

Anders nudged her. "What?" she said.

"You're lip chewing," he said.

"So?"

"It usually means your brain's working."

"You mean it isn't normally?" she said, shooting him a dark look.

"You think with many things," he replied airily.

"As opposed to just the one, in your case." Maeve cleared her throat. "I was thinking as it so happens. About mages and their manifestations. My parents had no idea about magic or how it might manifest. When I set my brother on fire they locked me in a room until the Templars came. They were terrified of me. But if they'd known..."

Anders' eyes brightened. "If they'd had some idea of what to tell you - some sort of defense against the spells you might have cast unwittingly..."

She nodded. "Maybe they wouldn't have reacted so strongly?"

"So you think if every family was aware of the _possibility _that their child might be a mage - had some sort of strategy to deal with it - then the first manifestation of magic might not be destructive?" Maeve said. "Jairo's manifestation was a disorient spell."

"Still less destructive than fire," Anders pointed out. "And also very, very rare."

"And it happened when Mama wasn't around any more," Maeve studied the horse in front of them for a moment, face thoughtful. Neria's mind was examining the idea from all angles, but it came up against a brick wall every single time.

"The Chantry would have a fit," she said finally. Anders snorted.

"Excused me, Revered Mother, but would you mind so much letting us distribute this educational pamphlet to new parents about what to do if your child is a mage?"

"It could still be done," Maeve said softly.

"The Chantry has a death grip on how people perceive us," Anders said. "If there was some _other _sort of information about mages..."

"Apostates are usually too busy running or hiding to try educating the masses," Neria said.

"But wardens aren't," Anders replied.

"No, we've just got the whole darkspawn-killing thing to do."

"No blight at the moment," he said.

"Let's get to Highever first, eh genius?" she said, curling her fingers around his hand. He smiled down at her, but she could see the discussion working behind his eyes.

_Kind eyes, _she thought to herself. _He has the kindest eyes of any mage I've ever met._

_I think I'm going to like the rest of his family._


	6. Chapter 6

That night at camp Neria politely (and extremely tactfully) excused herself early and left Anders and Maeve alone by the fire. It felt strange, having her there. In the firelight she looked even more like his mother and he found himself studying her in silence.

"You probably have a lot of questions to ask," she said finally. Anders shrugged.

"I'm debating whether I should wait until we see Father," he said. "But I suppose it's better to be prepared."

"Prepared for what?"

He shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Recriminations. Abuse. Disappointment."

"Why would he feel any of those things?" Maeve said. "What happened wasn't your fault. Mama... Mama would have..."

Maeve fell silent as Anders cocked an eyebrow at her. "Would she?"

His sister pressed her lips together and nodded. "Yes," she said. "Sooner or later. She told us that much when she got back."

"I never found out if what I did hurt her more," he said. "And there was no _way_ to find out."

"She said not," Maeve said. "She said you'd probably given her more time. Time to get some things done. Time to help Papa come to terms with it."

"Did he?"

Maeve shrugged. "I was ten, Anders," she said. "I suppose he did. We were all pretty cut up. Not just about Mama. Jairo kept asking for you for months and months, even after Mama died."

Anders blinked, surprised. He hadn't supposed.. but then if Felix hadn't blamed him for what happened - if Mama had somehow convinced him that it wasn't his fault they were found...

He broke a stick into pieces and fed the pieces into the fire. Maeve got to her feet. "Papa will explain everything," she said. "When we get to Highever."

"If he's well enough."

She chuckled. "Really, Anders. I don't think he's sick at all. Jairo says he's just being melodramatic - it's only age."

Anders could stop the small smirk that spread on his face. "Well.. if he _is_ sick maybe I'll be able to discover what it is."

Maeve rolled her eyes. "Are you going to be like that about his magic?" she said. "Jairo's done some amazing things."

"There are some advantages to circle training," Anders said.

"Well, we'll see," she said, smiling. "I won't lie to you and say Jairo's not just as curious about what you're capable of."

"We might have to go on a trip together to find it out. Who's fireballs are bigger? Always an interesting question."

"He doesn't do fireballs."

"Mmm, that'll be fun to teach him," Anders grinned. Maeve leaned over and punched his shoulder.

"Go and get some sleep. Or whatever it is you're planning on doing in that _shared _tent of yours."

"There are soooo many things I could say to that, but seeing as you're my sister I shall restrain myself."

She laughed. "We better start setting _some_ boundaries, I suppose."

He felt a warm rush of affection that surprised him in its intensity. "See you in the morning," he said. She smiled and nodded.

The rest of the trip passed in amiable companionship. Neria and Maeve seemed to have clicked in that way some people do - to the extent that long periods of silence didn't bother anyone except for Anders, who spent time playing with Pounce and refining spells. Neria had begun to learn some of the basics of shapeshifting before the recent joining, although she was only at the stage of visualising forms rather than actually taking them. She'd chosen Pounce as a subject, which was intensely amusing to watch. She would wait until the cat was asleep (considering he slept most of most days, this wasn't hard) and then build the illusion of the cat next to him.

On the rare occasions when Pounce woke during the process he would inevitably try to attack the illusion cat, with hilarious results.

"If you end up being able to disguise yourself as Pounce no one in the keep will be safe from your snooping," Anders pointed out to her on the third day.

"You've uncovered my evil plan," she said. "Helena said we need to model our forms on real animals - Pounce is the only subject available at the moment."

"What about Gregior?" Maeve's voice came from the driver's seat.

"Gregior?"

"The cart horse," Maeve said.

Neria spluttered. "You called the cart horse _Gregior?"_

Maeve shot them a look, with an eyebrow raised. "Jairo did," she said. "'Dull, thick headed and hauling a lot of baggage around,' he said."

Anders fell over laughing, clutching at his sides. Neria had a hard time staying upright as well. "He's never met the man, has he?" Anders said after he'd regained control.

"Actually yes," Maeve said. "Contingents of Templars come to Highever quite often - usually on the way to Orlais. And for some reason they always buy lyrium potions first. Don't they retire there or something?"

Neria nodded. "I suppose he would have to see some of them off," she said, wiping her eyes. "That's just too priceless. _Gregior. _I almost want to see him again just so I can point and laugh."

"Hey, I would have done that any way," Anders said. She cupped his cheek with a small hand and squeezed lightly.

"I don't think a cart horse would be a particularly useful form to have in my repertoire unfortunately," Neria said after a few moments thought. "Helena seemed to think we can only really have four different shapes - the preparation to get _one _takes a long time."

"We could use you to transport warden equipment," Anders pointed out. She looked at him. "Or... not, I suppose."

At the gates of Highever he paused, Pounce on his shoulder, standing next to the cart as Maeve spoke to the gate guards. They seemed to have a familiar banter going on, although the presence of the two warden mages was something that obviously needed discussion. He looked up at the battlements of the town - it was much bigger than he remembered. He knew the castle had been taken by Howe's men just before the Blight (Miranda had never told him what happened to her family, but everyone knew that story about the Hero of Ferelden) and he wondered if the defenses had been increased.

Maeve came back to the cart, her expression slightly concerned.

"Trouble?" Neria asked.

She shook her head. "Not really. Although they wanted to alert the Chantry to your presence. I told them you were wardens and they backed off."

"They couldn't tell we were wardens?" Anders said. He nudged Neria, "obviously we need bigger griffons."

"You're still pretty rare," Maeve said. "Especially mage wardens, from what I hear. Still, there shouldn't be any trouble."

"What about Jairo?" Neria asked, hopping down from the cart. "Won't they be more suspicious of him... if we're there?"

Maeve smiled and shook her head. "The people of Highever have known about Anders for years," she said. "If every family who had a mage in it was under suspicion by the Chantry there wouldn't be enough Templars to keep track of them all. And besides... the Teryn is on our side."

"Teryn Cousland?" Neria asked, looking up at Anders, who shrugged.

"We helped some Couslands on the road once," Anders said. "They never forgot the debt. Although I don't think the Commander ever knew about it. Obviously Bryce Cousland passed that information onto his son."

"And Papa made sure he remembered it," Maeve said. "We settled in Highever because of it. Anders would have been captured when he was eleven if it hadn't been for Bryce Cousland."

"Yet you never met the Commander until you became a warden?" Neria asked.

"Noble children and village children don't mix," Anders said. "I wouldn't say it wasn't possible I saw her every now and then, but I don't remember."

"Come on," Maeve said. "Let's get ourselves to the shop."

Highever had grown, Anders realised. The town was prospering. Shops were bigger, houses were better maintained. He supposed the town he remembered from fifteen years ago was still suffering the aftermath of the Orlesian occupation. Thirty-six years of freedom had made a lot of difference. The blight had never reached this far - even the talking darkspawn of his early warden days hadn't managed to make it out of Amaranthine. He supposed, being only really familiar with Amaranthine since he'd left the Tower, he expected Highever to be small and rural. It wasn't, at least not any longer.

Their shop was in the same place it had been, but had grown - swallowing up a whole other building. Anders whistled under his breath. "You _have _been doing well," he said. Maeve blushed proudly.

"We wouldn't have been able to have you stay with us if we hadn't," she said. "As it is you'll have your own room."

"A guest room? You haven't taken up smuggling have you?"

She laughed. "No. But Elana brought her own fortune when she married father and... well business has been good. What can I say? Not having your big mouth to feed probably saved us a few sovereigns a week."

He grinned at her, but his stomach was churning with nerves. They helped get the wagon stored and Gregior stabled before going inside. The shop was just as he remembered it, though more thoroughly stocked and... shinier. The counter was unattended, it was late enough in the day that this wasn't really a shock. Maeve led them behind the counter through the kitchen and into the living area - the room that he'd once shared with his brother and sister he realised. The fire was blazing and two high backed, luxurious looking chairs were facing it. A man unfolded himself from one of them as they entered. He was tall, dark skinned with thick, salt and pepper hair and a neatly trimmed black beard. His brown eyes were piercing, but kind and his face weathered with exposure to the elements and age.

"Papa," Anders said.


	7. Chapter 7

"You brought a friend, Anders?" Felix's voice was so familiar that he almost wanted to hug him - this tall, dark man - who was shorter than he was, he suddenly realised.

"Um. Yes. This is Neria, a fellow mage warden and my...ah " Felix's eyebrow shot up and Neria shifted, grinning.

"His," she said softly so that only Anders could hear.

"Superior officer.. amongst other things," Anders finished, giving her a look that only provoked a grin.

"Suffice to say they won't be needing separate rooms," Maeve said from behind him. Felix laughed at Anders' discomfort.

"Don't worry, my boy. Mages don't get married, I understand that much. Well, not usually any way."

The other chair was occupied as well and Anders' eyes were drawn to it as a woman stood silently. She was red-haired, plump without being heavy, and younger than Felix by a few years. Very beautiful, too.

"This is my wife," Felix said as she stood. "Elana, my stepson Anders and his... ah... Neria."

She smiled at them. "A pleasure," she said, and the accent was unmistakably Antivan - Anders had suffered the conversations of Zevran often enough to know the inflections. It was strange how he automatically tried to find the innuendo in them.

"Neria," Elana said. "Why don't you and Maeve and I get your things sorted in the guest room and leave these two alone? They have a lot to talk about."

Neria smiled at him and nodded. "If you don't mind," she said. "Anders and I would like to visit the castle at some stage during the week - Commander Sigrun has charged us with drumming up some warden recruits while we're here."

Felix looked at Anders and then his wife. "I can arrange to have a message sent to the Teryn tomorrow morning, will that do?"

Neria nodded. Anders was grateful she'd remembered Sigrun's orders, although he did have to remind himself that it was her job now, not his. The women departed, leaving him alone with Felix, who motioned him to the chair Elana had been occupying.

"Maeve says you're sick?" Anders said as they sat. He was running his eyes over Felix's frame clinically. He was thinner, but that could be explained by age. There was nothing obvious his senses could pick up.. although there was something slightly odd...

Felix waved a hand. "My children don't believe me," he said. "Jairo says I'm being silly. It's not important right now any way. What's important is you."

"Will you let me examine you?"

"Not now," Feilx said, looking impatient. "Now... now I have to tell you about your mother."

* * *

Neria was slightly intimidated by Elana's beauty, but Maeve's solid presence near her helped a little. The Antivan woman was efficient and elegant and Maeve was reminded of Zevran a little more than was comforting, considering the assassin's past. The room she was shown to was small, but the bed was wide enough for the two of them - considering her own stature, and Neria spent some time settling her things.

"Papa and Anders will probably be a fair while," Maeve said. "Perhaps you'd like a bath? Or something to eat? We'll be having dinner in an hour or two but I've seen how much.."

Neria smiled sheepishly and pulled a packet out of her pocket. "We're used to carrying around extra food," she said. "Part and parcel of being a warden. I'll wait for dinner.

Elana raised her eyebrow at that. "Jairo should be back soon," she said. "He was visiting a family in the Alienage.." - a slight flicker of the eyes towards Neria's ears, she noticed, although she could see no malice in it - "the winter sicknesses have started I'm afraid. I was about to start cooking dinner."

"Oh, do you need help? I love to cook..." Maeve raised her eyebrows and Neria was suddenly embarrassed. "I'm not particularly good - but I don't get the opportunity to cook much except trail rations. The chef at the Vigil is excellent and at the Tower they made the..." she trailed off, suddenly remembering, "...tranquil do it," she finished.

"I could always use a bit of help. Maeve is a bit less than enthusiastic in that regard." Elana looked at her stepdaughter fondly as she said it. Maeve blushed and muttered something about unpacking the wagon and Neria and Elana made their way back down to the kitchen. Anders and Felix were deep in conversation as they passed, and although Neria was intensely curious, she knew she would be able to grill him for information later.

The kitchen was large for a private home and well stocked. "I love cooking," Elana said, seeing Neria's reaction to the room. "In Antiva food and cooking are the most important things to do as a family - we eat - too much many people say - but always together. When I was a child we would set the tables out on the streets and every house would bring a dish to share on feast days and Satanalia and every other day we felt inclined. Bread and pasta and cheese and soups and stews..."

"I always thought cooking was more of an Orlesian thing," Neria said as she started to chop some dark cabbage Elana handed to her.

"Pah!" Elana said, grinning. "The Orlesians stole their cuisine from Antiva. Before all they ate was bread and meat. They never knew how to use garlic or herbs the way we do."

Neria grinned. Obviously she had found something the woman was passionate about. They chatted amiably about what spices went best with what foods as they prepared the meal - a soup with streaky bacon and beans and all sorts of vegetables that Neria had never seen before.

"Where do you get all the produce from?" she asked curiously. "I've never seen vegetables like this, especially not in winter."

"We have a plot at the back of the house," Elana said. "Jairo usually tends it - he's very good with plants. I brought seeds from Antiva when I came here. Of course, when it gets to the dead of winter we have less to choose from, but it's always better to grow your own food. And the soil in Ferelden is so rich! So much more so than in my home! You can grow five times the food in the same area of land. The people here... they are lazy about food. They could eat like kings and queens if they just took the time."

"What made you come here?" Neria asked.

"Felix and I met in Antiva," she said. "He convinced me to come back with him. He was there trading goods and we... well I would say we fell in love, but I have a feeling he simply loved my food." Her eyes sparkled and she smiled at Neria. "I was a cook in an inn in Antiva city. Have you ever been to Antiva?"

Neria shook her head. "I've only really been to Amaranthine and here," she said softly. "Oh... and I suppose if you count the deep roads as a travel destination. I spend a lot of time down there."

Elana was reaching for a heavy based hanging pot from one of the racks and nodded at her. "Of course - your circle doesn't let mages travel, does it?"

"No. Not until they've proven themselves, any way."

"Nor does ours," Elana said. "Mages in Antiva are probably even more feared - you know some of them become assassins?" Neria raised an eyebrow. That would be one hell of a thing to come up against - a mage crow. Zevran had never mentioned anything like it to them.

Elana made an odd face and looked at the fireplace. "Would you mind?" she asked, motioning to the kitchen fire, which was as yet unlit. "I'm afraid I'm used to Jairo doing it for me, otherwise it would stay lit all night. The smoke bothers Felix's lungs..."

Neria grinned and waved her hand, setting the prepped fire alight. Elana smiled back at her and dropped a generous dob of butter into the pot, letting it melt and sizzle before adding onions and garlic and carrots. Delicious smells started to permeate the kitchen and Neria breathed in deeply, stomach rumbling. If it smelled as good as it tasted she'd be willing to accept Elana's assurance that food in Antiva was better than in Orlais.

She found that the tension was leaking out of her in much the same way it did when Anders gave her a shot of his special rejuvenation spell. It was strange, but she felt content, in the kitchen of a woman she didn't know, and she found herself wondering what her life might have been like if she'd never shown signs of magic. _Not half so wealthy as this, _she thought to herself, thinking of the few memories she had of the Denerim alienage.

Really, she was better off.

_But maybe he isn't, _she thought sadly. So many of the circle children had been unwanted when their magic was discovered. She'd never come across another mage like Anders, who had been cherished despite his magic. _And the Templars took him any way, _she thought bitterly.

She found herself straining her ears to see if she could catch any of the conversation from the adjacent room and shook herself. He would tell her. Later.


	8. Chapter 8

Some time later, when the soup was bubbling and Neria and Elana had spent some time preparing a pie for dessert, a tall young man entered. Neria felt a deep shock of recognition hit her stomach. He could have been Anders - but a dark version of her lover - dark hair, dark skin like his father, but the rest - his bearing, the slightly crooked grin as he greeted his stepmother... the _voice... _

It was only after a few minutes of shock that she could start identifying the other differences apart from colouring. His chin was wider. His face less delicate - _handsome, still, but more rugged -_ her mind insisted on adding. His hair was short and slightly messy (obviously the obsession with neatness wasn't a family trait) and his eyes were darker - the rich, almost black of his father rather than the clear hazel she was used to. Still, her body found him similar enough that she was suddenly tongue tied, and the spark in his eyes as he looked at her made her blush.

"And who is this?" he said. The _inflections _were exactly the same. _Maker's breath, _she thought. _They're going to _hate _each other!_

"Neria," Elana said as she bustled around the table, setting bowls and spoons and plates. "Anders' friend. She's the senior mage warden at Amaranthine."

"An elf?" he said, cocking an eyebrow. She had to clamp her lips on her automatic reply, there was no racism in the comment, just surprise.

"We're an equal opportunity order," she said instead, mouth twitching. "Anders could have had the position, but our Commander - who's a duster dwarf by the way - recognises that some humans aren't built for leadership."

"Oh, I don't know," Jairo said. "Anders seemed pretty good at leading people around from what I remember."

"If only it didn't involve so much _work," _Neria said, grinning. "We're both in command, really. But he feels better if I'm the official name on the rolls - especially given his relationship with the Chantry."

Jairo shrugged. "Where is he, by the way?"

"Still talking with your father," Elana said. "Neria you might want to check on them? I have a few things I need Jairo to do before dinner."

She nodded and excused herself to the living room, where she found Anders on his own in one of the chairs, Pounce curled on his lap. His long fingered hand loosely held a sheaf of papers, but he wasn't reading them, he was simply staring into the fire. She didn't think she'd ever seen his expression so sombre and fear clutched at her heart, wondering what could possibly have wrought the change.

"Anders?" she said softly. He looked up quickly and caught her eyes with his. There was a moment when she thought he was going to say something terrible, but then he grinned at her and it was almost as if he was back to normal.

Almost.

"What is it?" she said. "What did he say?"

The grin faded and he pursed his lips together. "Sit," he said, pointing at the other chair. Then he passed her the papers. Letters, she realised. Or rather, one long letter, in a firm, elegant hand. "It's from my mother," he said. "She wrote it after she came back here. Never sent it though. It took Felix fifteen years to decide I needed to know what was in it."

"Are you sure you want me to read it?" she asked him.

He shrugged. "It's easier than me reciting it to you," he said, and the tone was bitter. He must have seen her reaction to it, and his face softened. "Please," he said. "I think I need someone else to tell me what it all means. Just the first page. The rest of it is spells and things - stuff you'll probably be interested in but not what I need you to read."

She nodded, and bent her head to read.

_My dearest Anders,_

_First of all, I'm so sorry. I should have been more firm about not letting you treat me, but I'm afraid I was selfish - thinking of the time we could have together if you succeeded. I wanted you and Jairo and Maeve to grow up together with both your parents, I wanted more time with you all. Instead I've robbed them of both of us. I should have known better. _

_I considered giving myself up to the Templars. After all there isn't much time left for me and there was a possibility that they would take me to the Tower. But Felix stopped me and to be honest I couldn't leave your brother and sister. Instead I'm writing this letter, hoping that you'll read it as a free man._

_I never told you who your father was. I told myself it was because you never asked, but truly, there is a chance you may need to know, especially now. Every person needs to know where they come from. _

_Sixteen years ago I was settled in a small village in the Bannorn. I was a healer then, Bertrand had taught me how to hide my talents from those who might betray me, even taught me ways to treat people without giving my magic away. A delegation of mages came to town to visit us - on their way back to the Tower from Denerim. They were led by a middle aged man - handsome and magical and charming to the tips of his fingers. They stopped to buy potions from me, and I know now that he recognised me as another mage. They were accompanied by Templars, but he didn't give me away. Nor did the other mages seem to recognise me. I found out later that he knew Bertrand - that some of the techniques Bertrand passed to me he had also taught to this man. _

_His name was Irving._

_I won't go into the details of why we ended up doing what we did. You're still my son and there are still some things that a woman shouldn't tell her children. Suffice it to say that a few weeks after he left town I discovered I was pregnant. I met Felix very soon after that and we began our lives together. He never asked who your father was and I never told him. As far as he was concerned - as far as either of us were concerned - you were his. I like to think you felt that, growing up with us. In our hearts - in Felix's heart and mine - you were never anyone's child but ours._

_But now that you're to go to the Tower I feel guilty for not letting you know something that might affect your life there. Irving knows about you, but there's a chance he might not realise you are his son. I am giving this letter to Felix - I want him to decide whether you need to read it. Perhaps knowing who your father is will help you. But perhaps it won't. _

_I love you, Anders. Always remember that._

_Joscelyn._

Neria took a deep breath and let the letter fall into her lap. She gazed at the fire for a moment before turning her eyes to the man sitting across from her. Anders was watching her hungrily for a reaction but she was uncertain what to say. She opened her mouth a few times, her brain trying to catch up to her feelings, her feelings getting in the way of language, until finally words escaped her without thought.

"That explains why they didn't tranquil you for escaping so often," she blurted, then clamped her hands over her mouth. There was a stunned silence. Anders' hazel eyes were wide with shock, or hate, or _something_ and Maker help her but she couldn't repress a giggle from behind her hand and suddenly they were both howling with laughter to the extent that Pounce let out a squeal and jumped from Anders' lap, stalking from the room in a huff.

It was a long time before they could control themselves.

When finally they stopped laughing she could see some of the tension had leaked out of his frame and she was glad.

"Andraste's arse," he sighed, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "Of _all _the people she had to sleep with..."

"Oh, I don't know. I always had a soft spot for Irving. It certainly explains a few things."

"Come _on," _Anders said. "He's so _wrinkly. _Maker! Does that mean I'm going to end up looking like him? Kill me now."

"He _is _old, remember," Neria said. "We're unlikely to get to that stage."

Anders raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Well, there's a silver lining to a dark, depressing cloud," he said finally.

"You're practically mage royalty," Neria said. "The heir apparent. You should go back to the Tower and declare yourself First Enchanter."

Anders shuddered. "No thank you," he said. "I don't think I'll ever be able to darken the doors of that place again. Do you think he _knew?"_

She shrugged. "Your mother seemed to think there was a chance. How many times did you try to escape before your harrowing?"

"Only three," he said. "And they said the first one didn't count, considering my circumstances. But still, you're right about me probably getting special treatment."

Jairo poked his head into the room. "What are you two chuckling about?" he said.

Anders looked up to see his brother for the first time. Neria saw a small frown appear between his eyes. "Jairo?" he said.

"The one and only," his brother said. "Maker's breath, Anders. You look exactly the same."

Neria wondered if Anders could hear how exactly the same they _sounded. _Probably not, she reasoned, otherwise the frown would be a lot deeper.

"You don't," Anders said. "Last time I saw you..."

"I was half your height and snotty nosed," Jairo finished for him. "I was only eight you know."

Anders' lips twitched in a grin. "True. Were you just poking your head in to eavesdrop or are you going to tell us something useful?"

"Food's up," Jairo said.

Anders pushed himself to his feet, looking suddenly much more like the man she knew and loved. "Right," he said, holding out a hand to help Neria to her feet. He looked into her eyes for a moment in unspoken thanks, before kissing her lightly on the forehead. "Let's go eat with the family!"


	9. Chapter 9

Dinner was a long affair - the soup was delicious and plentiful and the apple pie afterwards magnificent. The dining room chairs were comfortable and Anders had to acknowledge his family was good company. He found himself warming to Elana in much the same way he had to Maeve. Felix was just the same as he remembered and Jairo...

His brother was interesting. He didn't like the way he looked at Neria, but that was secondary to the general feeling he got from the man, and if he was completely honest with himself he didn't like the way _any _man looked at Neria. Jairo was charming, and interesting to talk to, and good looking, in that rugged way Anders had always been slightly envious of. He could see that his brother resembled him, as well. Unlike most men, he knew his own face well enough to recognise the features they shared.

There was no way he could tell how talented a mage the man was. Of course, Jairo was Joscelyn's son, so part of him hoped he was as powerful as Anders was, but the discovery of who his father was made him wonder - was magic from both parents translated into raw power? He'd been told often enough that he was talented, although part of him had suspected they were flattering him, hoping to give him a reason not to escape the Tower. As a warden he had few other mages to compare to. He knew the extent of Neria's power matched his, but that was through special circumstances.

His fingers were twitching and he had to actively suppress the lightning that kept wanting to escape. He remembered what it had been like - after the incident that nearly got him captured the first time - to have to actively suppress his power. He'd spent so long in (and out) of the Tower that he'd forgotten how. Jairo, of course, noticed it.

"Anders, you're sparking power all over the place," he said, slightly wistfully. "You never used to do that."

He shrugged. "Sorry," he said, slightly guilty. _Neria _wasn't sparking power everywhere. _Neria _was mature enough not to be threatened by other mages.

_Neria _wasn't related to him, however.

"I'm out of practice, suppressing it," he said. "The wardens don't blink if I shoot lightning at something. Unless I do it at them.."

Jairo grinned. "I suppose I'm jumpy about it," he said. "But having you here - well it makes things less complicated, doesn't it? If a Templar walks past I can always say you did it."

"Happy to take the blame," Anders said.

They finished the meal and sat for a while, sipping Antivan brandy and talking about inconsequential things. Elana and Maeve wanted to hear as much as possible about the darkspawn, and although many of their tales were gruesome, Anders and Neria obliged, leaving out a few pertinent details. Anders asked questions about the trading business which Maeve answered - it was obvious who was running _that _aspect of their lives now.

Felix was relatively silent, however. Anders didn't know what to say to him. Actually, that was a lie. He knew exactly what he wanted to ask the man he'd always thought of as his father. _Why didn't you give me the letter earlier? Why not send it to the Tower as soon as it was written? Didn't you think I deserved to know?_

And circling round and round in his head, all through the meal, despite the soporific effects of good food and alcohol, _Irving is my father. Irving is my _father. _Maker's breath. Irving - that stuck up, wrinkly old nughumper - had sex with my _mother.

Anger didn't describe the feeling, although a large part of him truly wanted to march up to the tower and punch the man. _Punch _him, not shoot him with lightning. There was something visceral about a good, solid, sock to the jaw.

Of course he'd probably kill the guy if he tried. He didn't want _that. _

After dinner was finished and he and Neria were snuggled (chastely, he was disappointed to insist - the walls in the house were still very thin) in the small bed, he found himself thinking back on all the times he'd gotten on Irving's nerves at the Tower.

There was the time he'd put vinegar in his dessert pie using telekenesis.

Or the time he'd made all the chairs in the classrooms face the wrong way and stuck them with a grease spell.

Or the time he'd been interrupted with.. what was her name? Marigold? Mary? in his study... _that _one made him blush, considering his new discovery.

And of course, the time, the one time when Irving had actually done something nice for him - locked in the basement of the Tower before Uldred's rebellion. After a full year of solitary confinement and near insanity, _Irving _had set him free. He'd force-fielded the man and disoriented half the mages in the Tower in his haste to escape. He'd never asked exactly how long after that Uldred had made his move. He wondered, sometimes, if he'd somehow made it easier for them.

"I can _hear _you thinking," Neria said eventually. She was facing away from him, his arms around her middle and her head tucked under his chin. He loved the feel of her soft black hair against him - she always smelled like wildflowers.

He chuckled. "You don't think I look like him, do you?" he said.

"Jairo?"

He'd almost forgotten about Jairo.

"No, Irving. Although I'm interested in the Jairo answer as well. Irving first though."

"Nothing like the man," Neria said firmly. _That _was a relief he supposed.

"And Jairo?"

"Yes."

"Mmmm."

"You, of course, are infinitely more handsome," she continued sleepily.

He squeezed her. "Correct response," he said. "Although slightly delayed. I may have to punish you."

She wriggled delightfully against him and he drew in a breath, suddenly wondering how quiet they could be...

"Are you upset about it?"

"The letter?"

"Yes."

He shifted onto his back, staring up into the darkness of the ceiling and letting her settle against his chest. "Not upset as such. Curious. Slightly shirty. But probably not in the way you think."

"In what way then?"

"I want to know why he didn't give it to me straight away."

He could feel her head tilt up to look at him. "I can think of a few reasons. But you should ask him."

"I should. And I will. Tomorrow." He shifted again, until he had easier access to her body. "But for now," he breathed into her ear, "I think I'd like to experiment with other things."

* * *

Asking Felix about the letter was harder than that, though. By the time they woke in the morning his stepfather was gone - Anders cursed their propensity to oversleep, neither of them were good with mornings when they weren't on the road and Elana was too polite as a hostess to wake them. When they emerged into the kitchen they found Elana busy cooking - Anders couldn't really tell what except that it seemed to involve flour. She pointed to a pot over the fire that held porridge and Neria quickly served two bowls of it for them to consume hastily.

"Where's Felix?" Anders asked.

Elana shrugged. "He sent word to the castle first thing about your request," Elana said. "Then he said he had some things to do and left. He often takes a walk in the mornings. Maeve minds the shop when she's home. If you go out you might find him at the market."

Anders looked at Neria, who shrugged. They had no firm plans.

"And Jairo?" he asked.

"He went back to the Alienage almost as soon as he woke," Elana said. "Bad cases there. Very bad."

Anders raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I should go and help as well."

Elana put down the dough she was handling and looked at him. "They need it," she said. "The Teryn is trying to get proper sanitation there, but resources are still limited - there just aren't enough men to do the necessary works. And the elves won't leave."

He looked at Neria and she nodded. "We can look for recruits while we're there," she said to Anders. "Somehow I don't think the Teryn will be recommending any elves when we go to see him."

"Oh, I don't know about that, mio caro," Elana said. "The Teyrn has several elven knights you know."

"Really?" Anders said. "That's strange."

"He's a good man," she said. "One of the best. Considering his sister, you can't really have expected otherwise?"

Anders laughed a little. "Well, you've got me there. Perhaps I just thought it was confined to the female side of the family."

Elana shot Neria a knowing look. Some female thing, he was certain. They finished their porridge and slung their staffs on their backs, making their way out through the store. Maeve waved at them as they passed and the two customers openly gawked at their mage robes. Anders smiled as they left, thinking there would be gossip in the village about them. That could only be good for business. Maeve seemed to think the same - there was a glint in her brown eyes as they left.

Highever market district was bustling and crowded and prosperous. Anders, who remembered not much more than dirt and alleyways from his childhood, was surprised. They had limited coin, though, and truly they didn't want for much. Anders' eyes glinted as he looked over a few of the stalls, every now and then he'd see a piece that would match her eyes, or look beautiful against her pale skin, but he restrained himself, thinking there would probably be an opportunity to shop on his own at some point. They wanted for nothing in the Keep, and Amaranthine's range of goods was sadly lacking when it came to the finer things in life, especially since the Mother's attack. Highever seemed to cater for a wealthier market.

The Alienage was located on the west side of the town, furthest from the docks, tucked into a corner. It was impossible to stumble across it - one had to go looking. Anders supposed that the elves liked it that way. When he was a child he'd played at the Denerim Alienage a few times, but Joscelyn had not taken him to the Highever one. As they approached the houses and shops became progressively shabbier and the sounds coming from behind closed doors were louder and less pleasant than those one could hear near his childhood home. He began to feel slightly uneasy.

The gates of the Alienage stood open, however, and the guards that stood there were friendly and relaxed. He glanced down at Neria to see her shoulders hunched and her eyes haunted. Amaranthine had no Alienage - the only elves she encountered these days were wardens or the servants at the keep who were treated as equals by all in fear of suffering the considerable wrath of Sigrun. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. She gave him a small smile as they stepped forward.


	10. Chapter 10

The guards had barely blinked at them - perhaps word had spread through Highever that there were two Warden mages staying at the healer's house - or perhaps they simply didn't understand the significance of the robes and staffs (Neria found that difficult to believe).

As they walked through the gates, however, Anders' head snapped up and he looked much as a rabbit would, sniffing the air for predators. "What is it?" she asked.

"Sickness," he said. "And a lot of it. Can you sense it?"

She had never been good at healing. Her basic heal spell was servicable and would patch a wounded Warden enough that they could make it back to camp but she could never master rejuvenation or the other spells Anders could cast without thinking. And she'd never met another mage like Anders who could_ feel_ the sickness in others. He'd shrugged when she'd asked him about it, only saying that the skill had actually gotten _better _after his joining, and that his mother had also had it.

"Something the Circle thought was too apostate-y I suppose," he'd said. She didn't see how being able to sense sickness in others could be harmful, but the Circle did have strange ideas about what was acceptable use of magic and what wasn't.

"What sort of sickness is it?" she asked.

He shrugged as they walked. "Dysentry. Infections of the lungs. The sorts of things you get when houses aren't properly ventilated and running water isn't clean." His face twisted a little. "The things you always get in alienages, to be honest. My mother used to spend a lot of time here when I was younger."

There were few elves out on the streets and the ones who were were mostly children. The odd adult here and there would glance at them, then scurry away. After about ten minutes, however, they spotted an elf standing at the side of a building who stared back at them belligerently. Anders shot her a small grin and they approached him.

When they were a few feet away he very deliberately leant over and spat at their feet. Neria was slightly shocked, but Anders didn't even blink.

"Good morning," he said pleasantly. The elf eyed him with barely contained disdain, and then ran his eyes over Neria with a little more than that. She saw Anders' eyebrow shoot up and felt a dangerous swell of power that was quickly repressed, and was ashamed to feel a quick surge of satisfaction at his automatic reactions. She had to stop herself from grinning. "We're looking for my brother," Anders continued. "Tall fellow - dark hair. Comes here quite a lot, I've heard - to help your sick."

The man stood up a little straighter. "Oh," he said, the mask of belligerence dropping suddenly. "You're the Grey Wardens? Jairo's brother?"

Anders smiled and rolled his eyes a little. Neria nudged him and mouthed "bigger griffons" at him when he looked down. His eyes flashed with humour. "Indeed," he said turning his attention back to the elf. "I'm a healer as well, and my companion has some questions she'd like to ask your elders. Do you know where we can find my brother?"

The elf gave a short nod. "He's helping Karel and Genya today," he said, and pointed out one of the houses off the square. "Mandrian will be able to talk to you about anything else you might need. Ah.." he looked suddenly furtive. "Will you be recruiting? In the Alienage?"

Neria tried to repress her smirk. "That depends," she said. "I really need to talk to your elder about it."

His shoulders slumped. She guessed he wasn't more than eighteen years old. Probably desperate to get out of the alienage - any way he could. She could sympathise, but she wasn't going to take any recruits that didn't have the skills to succeed as a Grey Warden. And he hadn't exactly impressed her with his attitude.

"I.. ah.. I see. Well. My name's Vela - if you decide you want... oh.. never mind."

Anders smiled at the boy, but took Neria's arm and steered her towards the house he had pointed out. When they were out of earshot he hissed in Neria's ear. "The sickness is strongest coming from that house," he said. "I hope it's not the elder who's infected."

"You don't think you can save whoever it is?"

"I think it will be a close thing," he said. "I wonder what Jairo's done so far?"

"Do you think he's using his magic?"

"I can't feel it if he is," Anders quickened his stride to reach the door and gave a few sharp knocks. She could feel the tension pouring off him as they waited. "It must be so frustrating," he said. "Not to be able to use everything at his disposal. I wonder how he stands it?"

The door opened and a haggard faced elven woman greeted them. She grunted in surprise. "Shem mage?" she said. Neria flinched, but Anders didn't seem to notice the insult. "You must be the healer's brother. It's good you came."

Anders nodded briefly and she waved them both in. Neria's nostrils were assaulted by the smells of human waste and she almost gagged. There were no windows in the house. Despite the cold she would have given a lot to let some air in.

Anders seemed to have the same thought, because he shook his head firmly and pushed the door fully open when the woman moved to shut it.

Jairo was kneeling in the corner of the room next to a bed that presumably held the patient. The woman stood next to the open door, wringing her hands. Another man sat at a table in the kitchen area of the one room house.

Jairo looked up when he heard the door open and his face creased into relief when he saw Anders. "You came," he said. "I was about to send for you."

"Elana said you might need some help."

Jairo nodded and motioned to the bed. "This is the fourth case this week," he said. "Can you help?"

Anders didn't hesitate, but put his staff to the side and knelt beside his brother. She felt the familiar flare of Anders' power with an added hint of something else - Jairo had joined with his own. The magic quickly moved past any healing she was able to do, so instead she turned to the woman and the man.

"My name's Neria, and this is Anders," she said softly. The woman waved to the table and they sat.

"I'm Genya," the woman said. "And this is our elder, Mandrian."

"I'm pleased you're here," the man, Mandrian said. He was younger than most elven elders she'd met - probably not much past his thirties. "It's so difficult to get mage healers to come to the alienage."

"We'll be here for a week," Neria said. "And I know Anders will want to help as much as possible."

Mandrian nodded firmly. "We started works on the new drainage," Mandrian said. "They should have been finished for this winter, but we ran out of time. There just isn't enough labour to get the jobs done."

"I've heard the Teryn is sympathetic," she said.

"He's a good man," Genya said. "For a human. But he's not always here..."

"And when he isn't the materials and labour are delayed," Mandrian finished for her. Neria sighed. It was the same story in every alienage. So easy to let it rot. So easy to wall it off and consider it an elvish problem. "Did you come from an alienage?"

She nodded. "Denerim," she said. "I was only five or so when I left though."

Mandrian's expression turned knowing. "I often think it's a better life for you, at the circle."

"If you mean we get enough to eat and don't have to worry about disease as much, yes. But at least if you need to you can leave."

Genya snorted. "Leave to where?" she said. "Another Alienage?" Mandrian held out a placating hand. Neria had to admit that the woman had a point though. It was easy to complain about not having freedom when you were well fed and clothed.

But she didn't think it made the Tower any better.

"I wanted to talk to you," she said to Mandrian. "About the possibility of recruiting. Do you think there are any elves in the alienage who would be interested in joining the wardens?"

Mandrian raised an eyebrow. "You've not asked the Teryn?"

She smiled lopsidedly. "I'm sure Teryn Fergus will recommend some excellent knights for our consideration, but there are other talents that are useful to the wardens. Talents that don't necessarily gel well with the rules of combat or chivalry."

Mandrian smiled. "Well. There might be one or two elves who would welcome the opportunity to test their skills amongst you. But we're still not able to carry arms outside the Alienage."

Neria shrugged. "We can come back."

Mandrian nodded. "Well, that's fine then," he said.

There was a small cry from the bed and Genya's head snapped to the corner. "It's all right," Jairo's voice came back. Neria shifted in her seat so she could see the two mages and their patient. "He's coming round." Jairo got to his feet, although Anders stayed where he was. "It's lucky my brother came when he did. Karel should be fine in a couple of days. No rich food, though, and plenty of water - clean water mind you." He looked around the house. "Burn the linens on this bed, though."

Genya's face fell at this - and no wonder. Linens were expensive. Jairo folded his arms across his chest and eyed Mandrian.

"Genya, it has to be done if you want to avoid catching the flux as well," the elven elder said. "We can find you new linens."

"I don't take charity," Genya said shortly. "Karel and I have always done for ourselves without help. We'll manage."

Neria's heart ached and she wondered if she had enough coin to spare to give some to the couple. But from the hard look in Mandrian's eye she knew better than to offer. Pride was a harsh master, and in many cases elves had little else.

Anders got to his feet a few moments later, his face a little paler than normal. Mandrian nodded to him. "You have my thanks, mage."

Genya stood as well, reaching into a pouch at her belt, but Anders held up his hand. "Don't, please," he said. "We don't need payment."

Jairo nodded. "You know I'm not here for money, Genya."

The elf woman's lips pressed together. "Charity," she said again.

"No," Jairo said. "You know the Teryn pays a stipend for us to help you, Genya. All the poor families in Highever, not just the elves."

Neria could see that didn't make it any better in the woman's eyes. But she could ill afford to pay them anything. That much was obvious.

"Get your husband back on his feet," Mandrian said. "And back to work. That's the best payment these people could have. And hopefully next winter the drainage will be finished and we won't _need _their help so much."

Jairo grinned at Mandrian and nodded. Genya saw them out of the house and back into the street. As they emerged in the chill air Mandrian gave a heavy sigh.

"Thank you again, Jairo," he said. "I think that's the last serious case we have."

"Until the next one crops up," Anders said. "We'll speak to the Teryn when we see him."

Mandrian shook his head sadly, but said nothing.

"We'll be back in a few days," Neria said to him. They shook hands and made their way back to the main town.

Anders was looking at Jairo curiously as they walked. "You know, Mama taught me how to mask my magic - but you were doing it far, far better than she ever could."

Jairo grinned at his brother. "I've had a lot of practice," he said. "But I'm glad you came. My methods are slow - even with magic I Karel needed more than what I could give him without being detected. I would have done it - if you hadn't come though."

"How many times have you had to risk yourself like that?" Anders asked.

Jairo shrugged. "A few," he said. "But luckily there usually aren't many Templars in Highever. The Teryn has a good relationship with the Chantry, but he manages to keep their numbers as low as possible."

"A pity that didn't happen earlier."

Jairo gave Anders a sympathetic look. "The numbers reduced just after you were captured," he said. "Bryce Cousland said he felt responsible for you and Mama getting caught."

_I wonder if that family has any dirty secrets, _Neria thought, a little spitefully. She knew Anders didn't feel the same way about Miranda Cousland as he used to, but it couldn't help to keep hearing that her family was such a paragon of goodness and so closely aligned with Anders' view of the world.

Some of what she was thinking must have been showing on her face, because he was looking at her with a slight smirk. She blushed and the smirk spread into a full grin that she couldn't help smiling at in return.

_Damn the man, _she thought. But took his hand happily.

"Lunch?" Anders said.

"Mmmm. Yes," Neria replied. "I saw a stall that was doing pork on a stick on our way here."

"Ah, charred pig. My favourite. Let's go."

"Maker's breath," Jairo said. "Do you Grey Wardens do nothing but eat? Breakfast can't have been more than an hour ago, and I _know _Elana would have fed you as much as you could hold."

Neria blushed, but Anders shrugged. "We have to feed our stamina somehow, Jairo," he said, giving his younger brother an evil wink.

Jairo held up his hands. "All right, I officially don't want to know. Why don't you two go and eat your pigs on sticks. I'll head back to the shop."

Anders grinned fondly as his brother walked away and Neria nudged him. "You know, I thought you'd hate each other," she said.

Anders blinked. "Why ever would you think that?"

"Well..." she frowned. "You're so much alike. I thought you might be.. oh, threatened by him?"

Anders pursed his lips. "Well, if he's like _me _he must be pretty darn good, no?"

She couldn't help but laugh. "You're the most self-assured person I've ever met."

"Hey, someone's got to like me. No, scratch that, _everyone's _got to like me. And I'm pretty sure my fireballs are bigger than his."

"Elana said he can't do fireballs."

"Exactly."

She hugged him. "Come on. Let's go eat some pork."


	11. Chapter 11

By the time they got back to the shop, Anders had almost forgotten his resolve to talk to Felix about the letter. But on finding that his stepfather was still out, he was filled with a surge of irritation. Why go to all the trouble of sending Maeve to find him if he wasn't going to talk? Elana apologised profusely for her husband's absence, and Jairo and Maeve seemed to think it was typical behaviour.

"He's been disappearing on a regular basis for months," Maeve said. "Says he's walking and thinking. Elana thought he was having an affair for a little while, but he disabused her of that notion."

"Not shy about speaking her mind, I take it?" Anders said, grinning at the red haired woman over the kitchen table. They'd had their pork on sticks, but come back to the shop to find that Elana had made orange tarts. Of course Neria and he had volunteered to sample some. Maeve and Jairo had joined them, Jairo complaining that he wouldn't get any food at all if he didn't snatch some every time the Grey Wardens decided to have a snack.

Elana waved her hands. "The man is impossible," she said. "But I love him. In Antiva if you feel something, you say it. None of this stupid Ferelden mincing around words. There is no point in hiding things if they eat away at you."

Anders rolled his eyes at that - considering Felix holding that letter close to him for fifteen years. "What is he doing then, if he isn't out womanising?"

Jairo looked pensive. "Thinking. Talking to the other townsfolk - I know he goes to the outlying farms and collects herbs for us to use. He's not being totally useless."

"I wasn't suggesting he was," Anders said. "I just figured, since he went to all the trouble to invite me here, he might want to have more than one conversation with me."

Maeve patted Anders' arm. "He's probably scared of your reaction," Maeve said.

"Do _you _know what was in the letter?"

"No," she said. "I still don't."

"I do," Jairo said.

Maeve's eyes widened and she fixed her brother with a stare. Anders turned in his seat and did the same. Jairo shrugged.

"He wanted my advice - as a mage. About how you'd react to the news..."

"That the first enchanter was my father?" Anders said. Maeve's eyes widened.

"Irving is your _father? _Papa sent me there to look for you without telling me that?"

Jairo's face turned sympathetic. "Sorry Maeve. Papa did say that he wasn't even sure Irving knew Anders was his son."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure he knew," Anders said. "It explains a few things."

Jairo looked guilty. "Any way, Papa asked me if I thought you'd resent it. Or get angry about it. Or stop trying to do your best at the circle if you found out you were the son of such an important mage."

"He was worried I wouldn't do well?" Anders said. "Maker's breath..."

Jairo shrugged. "Hey, I told him to tell you. I thought you deserved to know. But he didn't ask me about it until you'd already been at the Tower for a few years. Maybe he just thought it was too late."

"So why tell me now?"

"Because of his illness," Maeve said. Jairo snorted.

"Yes. This illness. The other reason I want to see him. What do _you _sense about it, Jairo?"

Jairo spread his arms. "There's something," he said. "But I don't know what it is. It's nothing I've ever felt before and he won't give me any information about how he feels or let me examine him any more than I can do just in passing."

"It's not the same.."

"Thing that killed Mama? I don't think so. As I said to Maeve, I'm not even sure it's a proper illness. He's not showing any symptoms, he hasn't slowed down at all... if anything I'd say he's more healthy than I've ever seen him before. He's getting older, but..." Jairo shrugged.

Anders put his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hand for a moment. Parents. They were exasperating. He remembered _that _from when he was young. They always got in the way of the things you really, really wanted to do. He felt Neria's small hand on his thigh then, massaging him with strong fingers and a flush of warmth spread through his leg. Huh. She was working on her healing... He looked at her and smiled.

"Well," he said. "I suppose I'm just going to have to wait for him to get back and talk to him about it then."

There was a ring at the door and Maeve got up to attend to the shop.

"We work around his whims," Elana said then, leaning against the kitchen counter which she had been busy cleaning during their conversation. "But you do that, when you love someone."

Jairo grinned lopsidedly and Anders sighed. "It was easier at the Tower," he said.

Neria laughed. "But nowhere near as fun," she said.

Maeve popped her head into the kitchen. "The Teryn's messenger is here," she said. "Apparently Lord Cousland will see you this afternoon."

Neria looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "Well. That was quick."

"Gives us time for lunch, though, doesn't it?" Anders said. Jairo threw his hands in the air.

* * *

Neria took him with her - she'd never met the Teryn and he had. Fergus was a good man - he reminded Anders of his sister in a lot of ways. Since his remarriage he had had another child - a girl this time, but Miranda had said he was a different man since the Howe attack. Losing his entire family had made him more sombre. Anders had never seen it, although he hadn't known the man beforehand. Fergus always seemed to him to be perpetually cheerful. Far more so than someone who had been through so much had any right to be.

They were received in the audience hall - Anders remembered it from when he was a child, although it did seem smaller and less imposing. Especially when Fergus grasped his hand warmly and greeted him like an old friend.

"My sister's favourite mage is always welcome in Highever," he said, making Neria look at him pointedly and Anders grin.

"I'm _everyone's _favourite mage," Anders said. "Not that she's had that many to choose from."

"It looks as though your numbers are increasing, however," Fergus said, looking at Neria and giving her a warm smile. Neria matched it with her usual half grin - the one that had a bad habit of making Anders crazy with lust. He managed to control himself this time, however.

"This is Neria Surana," he said instead. "She's head of the warden mages now."

Fergus raised his eyebrow at Anders. "You gave up the position?"

Anders spread his arms. "It wasn't as though I actually had it through talent. I was the only Ferelden warden mage for nearly a year."

"So you must be this gentleman's match in magic, my dear," Fergus said. "I'm impressed. Miranda always said Anders was the best mage she'd ever worked with, and she worked with a few."

Neria's smile deepened. "His areas of expertise and mine are different," she said softly. "I'm no healer."

"She's improving," Anders put in. "And she can knock me flat with her entropy spells."

"You're still better at primal," Neria pointed out.

"Fireballs say a lot about a man," he replied airily. Fergus burst into laughter.

"You haven't changed, Anders. It's good to see." He motioned them towards the back of the audience chamber to a door that led to a smaller sitting area. "Felix's message said you were looking to recruit in Highever."

Neria nodded. "We've asked at the Alienage - we were there this morning, and Mandrian seemed to think there were a few candidates who would be suitable. But naturally you'd have the best idea of who would be suited."

Fergus sat in one of the large armchairs and motioned the others to do the same. Neria perched on the edge of the seat of one and Anders was struck anew at how tiny she was. The chair was obviously made for humans. He wondered what Sigrun would look like sitting there and had to repress a giggle.

"Yes, well I have a few knights who are chafing at the restraints of small town duty who I think _might _be suitable, but truly the two of you would have a much better idea of who would suit the wardens."

"Ideally we'd like to see them fight," Neria said.

Fergus' eyebrow shot up. "But you're both mages. Surely..."

"We've seen more fighting from the outside than most," Anders said. "And Sigrun will vet them before we put them through the joining."

"Well, if that's the case the easiest thing to do would be hold a tournament," Fergus said. "I can arrange to have one before the end of the week - I understand you're leaving then?"

"We could possibly extend our stay, but yes we'd planned to be gone by then."

Fergus got to his feet. "Well then," he said. "That seems settled."

"One more thing, my lord," Neria said softly. "The elves from the Alienage - will they be allowed to compete?"

"Certainly," Fergus said.

"But they're not allowed to carry weapons..."

"Outside the Alienage, no, that stupid law is still enforced I'm afraid. But we can work around it. I usually have standard issue weapons and armour at my tournaments - don't want the contestants sneaking in some illicit enchantments in their gear. They'll be able to choose their weapons once they get here."

Neria's face creased in pleased surprise. Anders supposed she hadn't really expected the Teryn to be as decent as everyone had him pegged. Prejudice was still rife in Ferelden, despite King Alistair's attempts to make elves more accepted. He'd never encountered any in the Cousland family, however, and he wondered at Bryce and Eleanor - how they had managed to raise two children so free of it.

"Thank you, my lord," Neria said, getting to her feet. Anders joined her. "You've made our job a lot easier."

"I'll let the township know the tournament is on. Would you like any restrictions on entrants?"

Neria glanced at Anders. "It might seem a strange request - but we'd prefer if the participants had no families," she said.

Fergus cocked an eyebrow. Anders wasn't sure if Miranda had told the man warden secrets about fertility and lifespan, although he suspected she had told him about the former, given the trouble she and Alistair had conceiving Duncan. "It's not a life we recommend for families," Anders said. "It's not essential that they be single and without ties, but it is preferred."

Fergus nodded, his eyes shrewd. "I'll try to restrict the entrants then," he said. "Although there will be some who want to compete regardless."

Anders shrugged. "If they want to compete, let them. The final decision rests with us after all."

"We won't necessarily be taking the winners, either," Neria said, and Anders smiled, remembering the story of how the King was recruited.

Fergus smiled. "Indeed," he said. "I heard the story of King Alistair's recruitment by Duncan. I wouldn't be surprised if everyone in Highever has as well."

"Well and good then," Neria said. "Thank you, my lord."

"It was a pleasure to meet you." Fergus shook both their hands warmly before showing them the door.

The way back to the shop was subdued for both of them. It had been a full day. Felix opened the door when they arrived, his face haggard and drawn.

"We need to talk," he said to Anders.


	12. Chapter 12

"You sound ominous," Anders said. Felix's expression didn't lighten and he sighed. "I suppose you want to talk _alone _as well?"

His stepfather nodded. Anders gave Neria's hand a squeeze and she slipped into the shop. Felix, however, stepped out onto the street.

"I'd prefer if the others didn't hear this. Especially as it touches on things that they're not supposed to know."

"Not supposed to know? About Mama?"

"Not exactly."

Anders raised an eyebrow but stood aside to let his stepfather out.

"You're probably wondering why I didn't give you your mother's letter earlier," he started as they walked.

"You could say that," anders said. "Why didn't you?"

"She told me a a few more things over the years. Things she probably shouldn't have. Things she shouldn't have known."

Anders made a noncommittal sound. Felix was avoiding the issues. It was painfully obvious he didn't want to tell Anders what he was about to tell him and he didn't want to spook the man out of it.

"Do you remember the year we were in Denerim when you met the head of the Grey Wardens?"

"Duncan? Yes. I remember. I thought he looked like you. Is this where you tell me you're his long lost brother and being a warden was always my destiny?"

Felix let out a guffaw and shook his head. "No," he said. "Duncan and I both have Rivaini blood but we weren't related. You Fereldens just think all foreigners look the same."

"Well if you don't want us to think that you should all stop looking like each other then" Anders said smiling. Felix had often encountered hostility and suspicion because of his looks but as a mage - and openly one at that - Anders knew prejudice inside out. Not to mention the attitudes poor Neria got. An elf _and _a mage? He was amazed she got through some days.

Felix tugged the back of Anders' ponytail. "You're one to talk, blondy." The lighthearted gesture defused some oft he tension as they walked, but Anders could tell his stepfather was wound as tight as a bowstring.

"In any case, Duncan and your mother knew each other quite well. He offered her a place in the Grey Wardens before she met me and he knew she was a mage."

Anders was intrigued. What Rylock had said about the Grey Wardens as a haven for Apostates appeared to be gaining credulity.

"Obviously she turned him down," Anders said.

"She mentioned that she was pregnant. Luckily for you. Otherwise she might have taken him up on the offer. Being your mother of course, she managed to press Duncan into telling her _exactly _why being pregnant was a reason not to become a Grey Warden."

Anders stopped. They were just outside the market district - he hadn't been paying attention to the way Felix was leading them. "You mean...?"

"He told her about the taint. About the joining and what it does to your lifespan." His stepfather's voice turned pained on the last and Anders' mouth dropped.

"That doesn't sound like the Duncan I've heard about," Anders said finally. "Miranda said he was all duty and responsibility - not the sort to spill Grey Warden secrets to just anyone..."

Felix's eyes turned fond. "This _was _your mother," he said softly. "She was... very persuasive when she wanted to be."

"I'm not even going to ask."

Felix chuckled. "You've also got to remember that Duncan was very young - extremely young when he took the post of Warden Commander. When he met your mother he was desperate for wardens to replenish the Ferelden numbers. She was naturally suspicious that he immediately said she wouldn't be suitable when she told him she was pregnant. And your mother had a way of... getting what she wanted out of people."

"Well, I'm surprised. And a little bit impressed, I must admit. But what's it got to do with anything? So she knew about us - that explains why she didn't let Duncan recruit _me _when I was old enough. But why does that mean..."

"I'm tainted, Anders," Felix said then, suddenly. "I encountered darkspawn during the Blight on one of my trips. I got away, but not before one of them bit me."

Anders pressed his mouth together. "Don't be stupid," he said. "I'd be able to sense it if you were. Grey Warden, remember?"

Felix's mouth twisted. "I've been... getting help."

"I said don't be stupid. The Blight was nearly seven years ago. You'd be a ghoul or dead long since..."

"Anders.."

"No! Do you think I'm an idiot? I'm one of the most senior Grey Wardens in Ferelden - you can't expect me..."

"Just examine me," Felix said, sighing. "You'll see what I mean if you do."

Since Anders had been wanting to do just that since he got to Highever, he decided not to press the argument, no matter how senile he thought his stepfather had become. There was no need for secrecy here - Anders was a Warden. He didn't have to mask his magic, and he was very, _very_ good at diagnostics on the fly. He'd find out what was wrong with Felix and heal it at the same time. _That _would shut the damn fool up about this business of being tainted...

He lifted his hands, the blue glow of his magic already present and closed his eyes. Felix felt well, too well for someone with the taint, but there was that niggling _something _he'd felt before and Anders concentrated on tracking it down. It was difficult to pin but he peeled layers of good health to find the core of corruption within...

It _was _the taint. But it was contained inwards by something... something he'd not encountered before. He frowned and tried to explore more. The source of the power containing it... wasn't mana. It was...

Anders' eyes flew open and his magic flared briefly before settling. He found he was in a combat stance, his hand on his staff. Felix stepped backwards, his hands in his air.

"Blood magic," Anders hissed. "You're using blood magic to contain the taint. Andraste's Knickers, Felix. Where did you find a blood mage to do this for you?"

Felix's face had clouded in fear - fear of _him _he realised. Anders had seen that look on the faces of the people of Amaranthine when he went there on his own or with Neria to do something as simple as buy clothing. The same look that crossed the face of new recruits, farmers, anyone who's head had been filled with how dangerous he was - a mage with freedom. An apostate...

This was the man he'd always thought of as his _father..._

Anders forced himself to relax. Blood magic. Neria had assured him that Jowan had been a good man driven to desperation. Wardens did not forbid it. But using it to contain the taint...

Only Avernus had been able to do it. And he'd used human subjects in his research to discover _that _particular trick.

"You haven't been taking trips up to Soldier's Peak, have you Felix?" he asked.

"What? No. There's a... mage outside of Highever. He's been here for a long time. I visited him after your mother died... She knew he was a mage, but she didn't know what _kind..."_

Anders closed his eyes for a moment. "Can we walk?" he said finally. "I'm beginning to get full of nervous energy and that tends to result in lightning."

Felix nodded and they continued through the market district, silent for the time being. "So you became tainted..." Anders said eventually.

"Yes. And I didn't tell Maeve or Jairo about it, or Elana. I went straight to Owen when I reached Highever and he started treating me."

"How did you know he would be able to help?"

"We became friends. After your mother died. It helped that he'd known her - known about her. Jairo and Maeve and Elana... well they're family. Sometimes you just need friendship."

Anders' common sense was screaming at him. A blood mage. Mind control. But his _mother _had known him. Known about him. Surely if that was the case he wouldn't be the type to...

"What's changed?" Anders said suddenly. "You've been seeing this blood mage for years. What's changed that made you contact me?"

"He says he can cure the taint in wardens," Felix said. "I needed you to come... I wanted to..."

Anders was fast running out of his limited store of patience. "What exactly?" he said shortly.

"...save you."

They were near the Alienage now. The sun was beginning to set, the air was cold and Anders felt his heart clench in his chest. Felix wanted to save him. From being a warden.

"Felix, I don't need saving," he said softly. "Thirty years as a warden is more than enough."

Felix shook his head. "What about Neria? Do you want her to die young? Childless?"

Ouch and ouch. If it had been anyone else he would have knocked the man flat, throwing Neria in his face like that.

"Neria wanted to be a warden," Anders said. "She chose this life. If she hadn't been one - she'd still be in the Tower. Maker, Felix, if I hadn't been conscripted I would have been _hanged. _Thirty years is thirty more than I would have had without the taint."

"But you can have more."

"You've still got the taint in you," Anders said. "Obviously this mage isn't as good as you think he is."

Felix looked supremely uncomfortable for a moment. "He _could _cure me," he said. "If I was willing to pay the price for it."

Anders leaned against a nearby wall. "Now we get to it," he said folding his arms. "Blood magic. Let me guess. If someone else is willing to make the sacrifice, Neria and I can walk off into the sunset, taint free and happy for the rest of our lives. Mmm. Let me think about that for a minute. _No."_

"I'll do it for you, Anders," Felix said. "The taint in me can't be contained by.. by... in the _regular _way any longer. I'm going to die soon in any case. This way at least you and Neria..."

Anders felt the lightning sparking around his fingers and struggled for the control Jairo managed to keep all the time.

"No," Anders said again. "I'm glad you're alive, Felix. I'm glad your blood mage was able to keep the taint from killing you without killing anyone else to do it. But I won't let you sacrifice yourself for us."

Felix spread his arms. "What difference does it make? It's merely a different method of dying. Probably a quicker, more merciful one, when you think of what the taint does to people. You're my _son _Anders. You deserve to have a normal life."

Anders felt something inside him soften. "When have we ever gotten what we deserve?" Anders said. "Besides - I never wanted a normal life. What I'm doing _now - _who I am _now - _it's as close to what I've always wanted as I was ever going to get. If I stop being a warden - what happens to me? I run off to live as an apostate somewhere - hide like Jairo - constantly afraid of having Neria ripped away from me and dragged back to the Tower as the Templars kick my bloody corpse to bits? I'm as free as I'll ever be, Felix. Twenty years or so seems a small price to pay."

Felix's shoulders slumped and Anders realised he'd won. There would be no blood magic sacrifice. He reached out a hand and clasped his stepfather's shoulder.

"It means a lot that you care, though," he said. They looked at each other for a long moment. Anders searched his stepfather's face - there were lines there that hadn't been when he was a child, there was suffering - but he'd had a good life, this man. Most of it had been good, any way. And the bits that had been bad... well. Most people weren't so lucky.

"I want to meet this blood mage of yours," Anders said finally. "What was his name? Owen? If he can contain the taint like that we could probably use his help at the keep."

"Are you going to conscript him?"

Anders pressed his lips together. "If I have to. But we've got another warden mage researcher who could probably use his help. I'm not going to make him go through the Joining if he's willing to at least talk to Avernus first."

Felix raised an eyebrow. He still seemed uncertain. Anders reached out with his healing sense again and felt the edges of the taint. If whatever spell the blood mage was using wore off he didn't think Felix would have more than a week before he was a ghoul. He hesitated - but either way, his stepfather was living under a death sentence, and going out quickly would be better than the alternative.

"There's another option, you know. Other than sacrificing yourself."

"Another option?"

"When the time comes... if you want. I can ask Sigrun to put you through the Joining."

Felix looked down at his hands, and let out a little laugh. "I won't deny that was part of the reason I offered," he said shakily. "I've never seen a ghoul - but I've heard enough stories to make my flesh crawl. But would she let me? I wouldn't make much of a warden."

"I won't lie to you. Most people over forty who are put through the Joining die. But some don't. Your Calling will come more quickly as well. Young wardens get thirty years - I think the oldest warden we put through the Joining only lasted ten."

"As you said, Anders. Ten is more than none."

"You'd probably have to leave Maeve and Jairo to the shop and bring Elana back to the keep, if you survive."

"Let's wait and see if I survive before I start broaching that subject," Felix replied with a chuckle.

"Speaking of Elana," Anders said, "let's get back. I'm starting to get hungry."

Felix nodded. After a few minutes Anders glanced at his stepfather again. "You didn't tell me, in the end. Why you didn't send me Mama's letter."

"Wasn't it obvious?" Felix said. "I didn't want you to know who your real father was. As far as I'm concerned, _I am."_

Anders felt a rush of warmth run through him at that. "You're an idiot," he said affectionately.


	13. Chapter 13

_WOW. Got some really positive reviews for that last chapter - which I was finding very difficult to write, so that was an enormous ego-boost for me - thank you so much everyone! This trip to Highever has turned out to be a lot longer than I anticipated - really we were meant to have a quick reveal and then shoot off to some political machinations at the Tower, but... Anders needed to sort out some issues, so far be it for me to deny him. We all want happy Anders!_

_Thank you to everyone who is reading and reviewing and ARTING! My excellent friend Galagraphia on Deviant Art has done some magnificent pics of Neria and Anders - one of the two of them together which made me completely melt. Have a look! _

* * *

When Anders got back he looked relieved and afraid at the same time. She didn't have an opportunity to talk to him about it though, not before dinner. Felix had always seemed cheerful to her, but a weight seemed to have left him and far more of Anders' wit and personality shone through the dark features. The combination of the four of them had her lighthearted and truly merry for the first time she could remember. _This is what it means to have a family. _She wondered if her parents were still in Denerim. She wondered if she truly cared. The wardens had taken the place of siblings and parents and aunts and uncles... and lovers.

For a while, at the beginning, the Tower had felt like home and Jowan had felt like her brother. And then Tobias had...

But there had always been the Templars. Always, the closed door, the restrictions. And in the end, so much death.

Anders ushered her into their room early that night and told her what had transpired. She listened in growing amazement - it seemed incredible that Felix - the good man she'd come to know - would resort to blood magic.

But then, she'd never been able to understand how Jowan could do it either.

"I did the right thing, didn't I? Turning him down? I mean - do you dream of living in a cottage, or on a farm with a slew of children? Maker I never asked you that... never thought..."

She stopped his lips with a small finger. "Hiding our magic," she said, sliding closer to him and putting her hands on his chest. "Never being able to let loose a firestorm on a cavern of ghouls..." Andraste - that image of Anders in the cavern, calling forth all his elemental power... that was the one that had her waking him up at night, frantic with desire whenever it haunted her dreams. "Never being able to help anyone with your healing without being afraid of being caught." There was something so entirely adorable about the look of concern on his face. As if he didn't know - hadn't always known better than she did how she felt about life as a mage. All this power. Nowhere to use it.

"But.. the children..."

She sighed and looked down. "You're forgetting how young I was when I was taken," she said. "Having children was _not _the normal thing in the Tower, you know that. Perhaps if I'd been raised in the Alienage with pressure from my parents and uncles and aunts and everyone to pop out fifteen little ones before I hit thirty I _would _be upset about it. And yes, the idea of little Anders is appealing, but truly? I have a fully grown Anders _right here. _I don't need little copies as well."

"Little, cute, chubby copies," Anders said.

"Taking up _all _my attention," she said, slipping her fingers under the clasps of his robe. "Calling me away at every moment of the day," with practiced hands she slipped the robe from his shoulders and let it fall. His face had turned from concerned to anticipatory as her fingers explored the contours of his chest and back, her head dipping to his nipples. She breathed in his scent and tasted his skin - so much warmth there - always, even in the middle of winter. He was like a furnace of energy, coiled and ready. _Extremely _ready, she realised with a smile. "Not to mention we'd lose something extremely important to me."

He dipped his head and nipped her neck. "What would that be?" he breathed into her skin, sending a delightful electricity down her spine and deep into other areas. He, too was busy with the clasps on her robe. Unisex clothing had its advantages. She gasped as his fingers reached under the fabric, trailing across her breast and pushing the fabric out of his way.

"Stamina," she said huskily, and pushed him backwards onto the bed, even as the robe puddled on the floor.

"When exactly did you decide not to wear smallclothes in the middle of winter?" He asked as she straddled him.

"Since you taught me that rejuvenation spell with the fire edge to it," she said. "MUCH more comfortable than clothing."

"Sooo..." he rested back on his elbows as she untied the thong that held his hair and tangled her hands in the long blond strands. "You'd be willing to walk around naked then?"

"In certain situations, absolutely."

His tongue darted out like a cat's and he licked his lips. "That private cottage in the country is beginning to look very attractive," he said. She lifted herself up until the tip of her nose was nearly touching his while her hands busily trailed down to his chest.

"Why move?" she said. "I can do this..." and she raked her fingers _just so _making his head fall back onto the bed as he gasped... "pretty much anywhere."

His eyes were fluttering shut. She grinned and let magic flare along her fingers - the same rejuvenation spell with a few little modifications she'd been working on in private and a delicate blue and white glow surrounded them. Anders' eyes flew open as the spell took hold of him. "Sweet Maker," he breathed. "You've been a very busy... _naughty _girl..." He moved suddenly, gripping her arms, but she let her grin widen when he realised they were suddenly much weaker than normal. That particular combination of entropy and rejuvenation had only been discovered by her by accident - a misfire when she was trying to master the rejuvenation spell and she'd kept the result to herself. She didn't think the other mages at the Keep would be interested.

Well, they would. But she didn't think there would _ever _be a way to work it into a normal lesson.

As it was, Anders was letting out a low hum in appreciation of the sensation, despite his lack of strength - his eyes had eased closed again. She took a breath, waiting for the spell to lose its initial strength, drinking in the sight of him beneath her. She never got the chance to _look _at her lovers in the Tower - it was always darkened corners, mostly clothed. And they were mostly elves.

Anders was long and lean and hard in all the right places - especially now. She loved to look at him. It was another reminder of freedom.

But she loved feeling him against her more, and she only took a moment before leaning in closer and fitting her body to his. His arms encircled her and pulled her close as she trailed kisses and nips down his stubbled cheek, to his neck, his shoulders. She could feel tension vibrating through him but was unprepared when he managed to overcome the weakness of her spell and flip her to her back.

"Mmmm," he said, using his weight to pin her beneath him. "Miasma and Mass Rejuvenation would take out an entire city if you were casting it, my love," he said.

"It's a good thing I haven't mastered mass rejuvenation then," she said. "And this combination has side effects," she added. "I wouldn't want to use it on _enemies."_

"Oh ho! Side effects?" he took a nipple into his mouth and suckled, gently at first, then harder when she pressed upwards and groaned. "What side effects?" he asked when his mouth was free again, his hand wandering down past her navel.

"Wait," she said, squirming. "And _feel."_

It would be coming soon, she knew. In the meantime she ceased moving and let his fingers find her centre, whimpering slightly as he entered her briefly before caressing her slowly, tantalisingly, at just the right spot to make her clamp her hand over her mouth to stop from crying out. She watched him, though, feeling the pulse of her magic flow through his body, one spell nearly spent, the other only just reaching its peak...

Anders went rigid suddenly, his eyes widening and mouth opening. His hand ceased movement and he arched backwards, all the strength her spell had sapped rushing back and overflowing with the peak of her rejuvenation spell, sending both their senses reeling.

"Sweet Holy _Maker," _he gasped. "Was warden stamina not enough for you?"

"I see no harm in augmentation," she said, shaking with soundless laughter and overwhelming desire. "Now let's see how well you _use _it."

He growled and lunged forward, devouring her mouth with his and using suddenly strong hands to pry her legs apart. She couldn't repress the short, sharp cry as he thrust into her and she had a moment to wonder exactly what it was she'd unleashed as he moved urgently for the first few thrusts, burying his head in her neck and muffling his own cries against her. But he slowed, lifting his head and looking into her eyes, his own eyes twinkling with sudden mischief.

"You know, Jairo can probably feel this spell," he said breathlessly.

She cocked an eyebrow at him and urged him to go faster.

* * *

Felix didn't leave the house again in the next few days and seemed determined to make the rest of them enjoy themselves. They were taken out to inns for food and drinks - shown the sights of Highever and treated to presents. Anders suspected Felix was trying to say goodbye to everyone. He couldn't tell Maeve or Jairo or Elana exactly what was wrong with him and he knew he didn't have much time left.

On the day of the tournament he took Anders and Neria aside into the shop, after it had closed. "I'll take you to visit Owen on the day we leave," he said. "I'll need to see him then in any case. And then I'll need to come back to the Vigil with you."

"That soon?" Anders said.

"Owen said the last few treatments have been touch and go. If I don't want to avoid irreversible corruption, I'll need to go through the Joining in the next month."

Anders clenched her hand. "I..."

Felix smiled reassuringly. "I've told them I need to leave with you. I've told Jairo you know what's wrong with me, and you know a treatment. He doesn't believe me, so expect to be accosted by him before you leave. Elana wants to come as well but I've asked her to stay here - if I survive... if I survive I'll see what happens then I suppose."

"You know you'll still have to face the Calling," Anders said. He glanced at Neria. "We go into the deep roads to fight darkspawn until we die. You're not exactly a fighter..."

"Which should make it much easier to do the dying part, I expect," Felix said, laughing a little. "I'm not above taking care of that aspect myself," Felix said then, seeing Anders' despairing expression. "I know Andraste forbids it, but I figure the Maker will give me a bit of leeway in that regard. After all, if I _don't _there's a chance I'll be off eating the flesh of the innocent."

Neria looked up at Anders, who's dismay had turned to a smirk. In the back of her head, as it always was whenever they mentioned the Calling, there was the fact that he would be going first. Three years seemed like a long time when she had fifty or sixty stretching ahead of yours. When there was only thirty...

"I'm sure something can be arranged," Anders said. Then he reached out and grasped Felix's shoulder. "I'm sorry this happened to you," he said softly.

"I got off lightly compared to some," Felix said. "At least I got to spend some more years with my family." The two men were silent for a few moments in that way men who don't want to submit to tears have, then Felix clapped his hands. "From what I understand we have seats of honour at this tournament. They even," he turned his gaze to Neria, eyes sparkling, "have pork on sticks, I've heard. We'd best get going."


	14. Chapter 14

_I had to look back over previous stories to remember who I married Fergus to. Much to my chagrin I called her Maeve too. Obviously I need to read a baby name book before I name the next child or __**they**__ might end up with the same name, which would be strange since they're different sexes._

_In any case, please excuse the doubling here. They're not the same person, I promise._

_

* * *

_

The grounds at Highever were packed, despite the cold weather. It seemed midwinter was a good time to hold a tournament - most of the farmers were free and Teryn Cousland seemed not to mind having the common folk mingle with everyone else - although there was a stand for the nobles to be seated in. The fact that the elves were allowed to compete didn't seem to phase anyone and Neria had to accept that perhaps this Teryn's attitudes to her kind were rubbing off on his people. The only ones who seemed put off by the cheering crowd of Alienage elves were the few Chantry sisters gathered near the exit of the training grounds, and the severe, scowling Revered Mother.

"Oh, don't mind her," Fergus said as they took their places in the stands. "She's always looked like that. Ever since I was a little boy. I think she's frozen that way." The Teryn's wife, laughed. Little Eleanor had begged to be able to come to the tourney but was at present with her nurse back at the castle, and Neria had been delighted to meet the Teryna, a fiery red haired woman who seemed to match her husband perfectly. Maeve shared the same name as Anders' sister but there was little danger of confusing the two women. Rumour had it that childbirth had softened her somewhat, although Neria couldn't really see where.

"So what should we expect?" Anders said.

"Standard bouts of ten minutes each," Maeve said. "They fight to first blood or till one is knocked out otherwise."

"So who's judging?" Neria said.

"I am," Maeve said. Anders looked at Neria, then back at the petite Teryna.

"Don't let her looks fool you," Fergus said. "Maeve has taken my sister down in a few bouts."

Anders looked suitably impressed. Neria had, of course, never seen the Queen fight, but she _was _the Hero of Ferelden and the other wardens had described her prowess often enough.

"Well then," Neria said. "When does it start?"

The answer was, almost immediately. A servant came past with pork on sticks "Your stepfather said you liked it," Fergus said. "So I asked them to make some. Surprisingly good, actually!" and Neria and Anders munched happily while the first bouts began.

They were standard show fights, which to Neria and Anders were nothing new. The wardens sparred with each other in the practice fields at the Vigil all the time. Sparring with comrades rarely if ever resembled a true fight, however, and Neria found herself looking for flashes of originality in the fighters. Whomever had drawn up the lists had matched opponents well. The rogues were classed together and the straight warriors on the other side. The elves (there were only six of them, in the end) held their own surprisingly well - the most surprising being Vela, the rude elf from the Alienage. His fighting style was unorthodox and probably mostly self taught, but it was brutally efficient.

By the time the rogues and warriors had to mix there were three candidates who were standing out to both Neria and Anders as exceptional. Vela the elf - who fought with twin daggers, a woman named Hannah, who wielded a two handed sword with amazing proficiency and who was not a knight with the Teryn at all, but a commoner, and one of the knights, Alan, who fought with a longsword and shield.

Two or three of the other fighters were competent enough and Neria took note of their names - if they were desperate to become wardens and hadn't just joined the tourney for the fun of it, she would consider taking them back with them to the Vigil for Sigrun's more professional eye to run over, but those three outstripped their opponents handily.

"What do you think?" Anders asked quietly as they watched the second half of the tournament.

She named the three she thought were the best fighters and Anders nodded, but he also looked troubled. "I'm thinking we won't be taking Alan with us though," he said.

She agreed. Every time the man won a bout he gloated. It was worse when he beat a woman, and even worse if he beat an elf. The one occasion when he beat an elven woman - well Neria was surprised her family hadn't stormed the man and cut _his _ears off. Mind you, perhaps he underestimated exactly how well elves could hear. As it was the woman he'd bested stood and stalked from the field, red in the face and breathing hard. Neria was amazed she hadn't attacked him again, but such an action would have disqualified her from the rest of the tournament. It showed remarkable restraint on her part and although she wasn't the best of the fighters, she took note of the name - Maryleth - in any case.

None of the humans in the stands had the ears to have heard the remark. "What was _that _about?" Anders asked.

When she told him what the man had said lightning had flickered on Anders fists. "Charming," he'd muttered through clenched teeth. "_Just _the sort of man I'd like to see Sigrun gut."

The tournament finished with Alan crowned the victor, in a bout against the woman - Hannah, who had defeated Vela in the previous round. There was polite applause and the Teryn presented the man with a small pouch of coins.

"As you know," Fergus said to the crowd, "this tournament was held in honour of our Grey Warden guests, who have travelled to Highever in search of recruits for their order. I ask that the following participants stay behind to join us in our festivities at the castle and speak with the wardens."

He read the list of names Neria had given him - six in all including Hannah, Vela and Maryleth. Alan obviously thought that considering he'd won the tournament he was including on the list without saying. Neria didn't relish the idea of letting him know he _wouldn't _be considered as a candidate. She wondered if she could somehow fob that duty off onto Anders.

"Don't even think about it," he said as they made their way down to the castle with the other nobility.

"Can you read my mind?" she asked.

"Only when you're planning to make me do unpleasant things. You get this little twitch next to your right eye..." he reached out a long finger to touch her and she swatted his hand away.

"You're the senior warden," she said.

"I seem to remember giving that position to you. And in any case, think how much more fun it will be for all of us if the arrogant sot gets rejected by an elven woman?"

Neria stopped walking. "Um..." she said, suddenly a little more apprehensive. They were off the practice field halfway to the castle and the people surrounding them were chatting and laughing to each other. They received a few stares, nonetheless, but no one was listening to them, and Fergus and Maeve had gone on ahead to receive their guests.

"Hey," Anders put a hand on her arm and smiled down at her. "I'll stand next to you. And are you _really_ frightened of a human and a non mage? You can boil his insides with one word."

She frowned. Anders was right, of course. She was hardly defenseless, there was no reason for her to be afraid. But the fear was there all the same. Humans. Big, smelly, _strong _humans. That was the problem. In the Alienage they'd been the perpetrators of everything wrong done to elves. At four she'd been too little to understand, but there were other Alienage elves at the Tower and they told stories about what had happened to them, or their families, before they were taken.

In the tower they were the Templars. And there were stories of what _they _got up to hunting malificar or just simple apostates... Of course the Chantry denied it and punished any who were caught but... It was the elves who suffered. The elven women, usually, although some of the time it was even the men.

Anders face crumpled into concern. "Neria?" he said softly. "What is it?"

She tried to shrug it off. "It's just..." she gave him an apologetic smile, _"...shems. _Like him, I mean. Not humans in general. At the Tower, _shem _was a word we used for people like that, since we were forced to live with humans any way. Not all humans are like that."

He did reach out a finger to brush a strand of hair from her eye then. The gesture was incredibly gentle, even though his hand would swallow half her face if he left it there. He was so much bigger. "Not all of us," he said softly. She leaned her cheek into his hand and closed her eyes.

"Definitely not all of you," she said. He tipped her chin and planted a soft kiss on her lips that tingled down to her toes.

"Good," he said. "I'll tell the smelly shem he can stuff melons up his arse if you want."

She laughed. "No. I'll do it," she said. He dropped his hands and smirked. "But I'd like it if you stood behind me and looked threatening while I do, just the same."

He cracked his knuckles and she laughed.

* * *

There was so. much. food. Neria sighed happily at the smells and sights that accosted her as soon as they entered the audience chamber of Highever. She'd eaten about four pork sticks in the stands, as well as two of some sort of jam doughnut baked good with sugar dusted on it (Anders had literally squealed in delight as they were carried past and grabbed the whole tray from the seller - it seemed he remembered them from his childhood) but her stomach was still growling.

"You forget," Fergus said when they found him. "I have a sister who's a Grey Warden. And her husband as well. They strain the kitchen whenever they visit. Oh, and you should count yourself lucky you have no children," he said to Neria, winking.

She blinked.

Maeve laughed. "When the Queen was feeding Duncan she ate enough for two Grey Wardens," the Teryna said. "It takes some people that way. I was the same, although my appetite never quite matched hers at its peak!"

"The Commander always ate more than the rest of us in any case," Anders said, smiling. "We used to say she burnt it off in righteous rage."

Fergus laughed. They were at the top end of the hall, with all of the potential recruits, including Alan. Fergus took Anders and Neria slightly to the side.

"I'm assuming you're not going to take Alan of my hands," he said softly.

Neria took a deep breath. "I'm afraid not, my lord," she said. "If he came to the Vigil he'd be working under a dwarven Commander... a woman, and be asked to work intimately with a number of elves - many of them women. His... attitude on the field made it quite clear that he wouldn't react well to that."

Fergus sighed. "He's been a problem ever since he squired with us," Fergus said. "He was an orphan - we never found out what happened to his parents. But he was such an excellent fighter..."

"May I make a suggestion?" Anders said.

Fergus cocked an eyebrow. "By all means."

"Send him to Denerim," he said. "King Alistair is always looking for good soldiers, and he's just made a new Bann who would probably love to have a skilled warrior in her guard."

Neria, who knew who the new bann was, gasped. "Anders, you can't be serious."

He smirked at her. "Come on, Neria," he said. "If Shianni can't whip the boy into shape I don't know _who _could."

Neria rolled her eyes. It was a neat solution though. If for whatever reason Shianni _couldn't _deal with him King Alistair would show the man absolutely no mercy.

"Perhaps we should talk to him first, then," Neria said, sighing. "Would you bring him to us?" Fergus nodded and turned to the tall man - who had a goblet of wine in his hand and was grinning arrogantly at the other fighters.

Face to face with him, Neria felt a little better, especially with Anders solid presence at her shoulder. The man bowed, although Neria noticed that he was facing Anders more than her when he did so.

"Ser Alan," she said. "I'm afraid we are unable to offer you a place with the Grey Wardens at this time." The man's face clouded and he turned his eyes on her.

"I'm sorry?" he said.

"At the present time," she said, "we are not looking for anyone with your particular skill set. However, the King in Denerim..."

"Excuse me?" Alan said. "Am I to understand _you_ have the final say in this matter?" She inclined her head in the affirmative, keeping her expression as neutral as possible. "A mage? And an _elf?"_

"I am the senior mage warden in Ferelden, Ser," she said.

"I thought that was _him," _Alan said, pointing rudely at Anders. "Wasn't he the one who was with the Queen in Amaranthine?" Anders arched an eyebrow. "Yeah, you were the one. I recognise you because of the cat." Pounce seemed to realise he was being talked about and flicked his tail around Anders' neck, eyeing the man as though he were a particularly odious rat from his perch on Anders' shoulder.

"In the wardens we promote our people according to their talents," Anders said coldly. "Not their length of service."

"And they promoted _her _over _you? _What, is your Commander _blind?"_

Neria feigned a puzzled frown. "Whatever do you mean, Ser Alan?"

Alan spread his hands as though they were both stupid. "She's a _knife eared whore."_

Anders snapped. She could feel the tension explode into lightning without even turning. Pounce was up on his feet, hissing at the man while the spell crackled around her lover, setting her hair floating in static but not releasing into a full blown attack. For her part she simply folded her arms. "Perhaps I can control my temper better than he can," she said softly. "Which is all to the good, considering. I suggest you go and enjoy your victory banquet, Ser Alan. You certainly won't be accompanying us back to Amaranthine."

At the obvious manifest of power Alan stepped back, fear written on his face. Neria noticed the two Templars in the room had their hands on their swords and flicked a glance at Fergus, who nodded and went to speak with them. "I believe the Teryn has an offer to make to you," Neria said then. "I suggest you take him up on it. You're still young. There is hope for you yet."

"Not much," Anders muttered.

Alan scrambled backwards and fled the room. Neria wondered if he'd bother to return. She hoped not.

Once he was gone Anders let his spell dissipate and grinned widely as she turned to him. "Can we do it again?" he said, rubbing his hands together in glee. "That was so much fun!"

"You like threatening helpless humans?" she said, allowing her own smile to match his.

"I can't believe I haven't done it more often," he replied, practically jigging on the spot from the rush of it. "Of course it helped that he insulted your honour. I got to be all manly as well."

She let her eyes wander over his form slowly. "Yes, I may have to reward you for that later," she said. His eyes sparkled.

"I'll hold you to that."

"You two are pretty scary, you know that?" Fergus said as he returned.

"Did you manage to placate the Templars?" Anders asked.

"I told them if they dared to smite our two honoured guests in my hall I'd personally see them reassigned to the Redcliffe orphanage for the rest of their lives. The Revered Mother there is _very _strict. And she's a friend of mine."

Neria squeezed the Teryn's arm in sudden affection. "Thank you," she said. "Now... shall we get on with the proper business of the evening?"

The other fighters were all eyeing them nervously, save for the woman, Hannah and the elf Maryleth. Hannah's scowl hadn't lifted since the beginning of the tournament and Maryleth's eyes were shining with hero worship.

The other three recruits were all human men - two of the Teryn's knights and one commoner. The knights were Henric and Grahame, both sword and shield wielders, the commoner Peter, another rogue with excellent knife skills, although not a match for Vela.

"Before we say anything else," Neria said. "Let me impress upon you that I'm not conscripting anyone today. If you wish to become a warden, you are welcome to come with us back to the Vigil tomorrow. If not, you are free to leave." She waited a moment, but none of them seemed inclined to take her up on the offer. She repressed a sigh. None of them knew the risks of the joining as yet, and she felt for them. "Well, that's good then. Collect your gear this evening after the feast. We'll be leaving just before midday tomorrow - you can meet us at the town gates.

Vela lifted a hand tentatively. "Uh.. what about our weapons?" he said. "We're... uh..."

"If you mean the restriction on elves carrying weapons outside the Alienage," Fergus said, "You and your friend have exemptions for the morrow. Once you are wardens, of course, that no longer applies."

"I would be happy to say you were wardens right now," Neria said. "But unfortunately I _do _have to let my Commander take a look at you all before I can say that. You'll be issued with new gear once you've been through the Joining - although feel free to keep your old if you prefer it. We're not a very formal order."

Maryleth was eyeing Anders', or more particularly, his staff, which was enormous and _certainly _not standard issue. "I'm sure any gear you can provide us with will be better than what we can scrounge from the Alienage," she said.

Neria privately agreed. "Well and good then," she said. "That's all I have to say. I suggest you enjoy the evening. The Teryn has put on a spread worthy of royalty and I for one intend on sampling everything." She smiled at the recruits, who mostly smiled back, save for Hannah.

"What do you suppose her story is?" Neria said to Anders and Fergus once the recruits had dispersed.

Fergus sighed. "Her husband was at Ostagar," he said softly. "Duncan recruited him for the Grey Wardens actually, just before Ostagar."

Anders' head whipped round so quickly he nearly dislodged Pounce from his shoulder. "He was a Warden?"

Fergus nodded. "His name's on the monument at the Tower of Ishal. He.. apparently he was in the same Joining as my sister."

Anders' eyes glittered. Neria got the impression he knew more about the story than he was saying in front of Fergus. She made a note to ask him about it later.

"So she lost her husband during the blight?" Neria asked. "That's hardly uncommon. Or is her demeanor just how she's always been?"

"She had a son. He died in the first winter of the Blight." Neria's mouth opened in a silent "oh". Fergus rubbed his hand through his hair. "The poor woman went a bit mad for a while, left Highever and went to fight darkspawn with her husband's sword. When she got back - well, she was still alive and she wasn't tainted, so obviously she discovered a skill with that sword that might have helped her husband. I've rarely seen her matched."

"She's taken part in tournaments before then?"

"Every chance she gets. I offered her a place in my knights but she refused. She lives with her parents near the Alienage."

Neria looked at the blond woman again, pity clenching her heart. She would have been beautiful - if not for that expression.

The evening passed pleasantly enough, but Neria was suddenly homesick for the Vigil. She missed her fellow wardens, she realised. It felt good to have seen Highever - good to have met Anders' family, but she was weary of it and looked forward to the journey home.

Anders seemed to sense some of her mood and took her hand in his. "Time to take our leave?" he whispered to her. She nodded.


	15. Chapter 15

The following morning Anders crept out of their room down to the kitchen to find the rest of his family up and bustling. Jairo gave him a wicked smile - he hadn't stopped with the lewd looks since he and Neria's little experiment with magic the other day. Anders found he didn't mind.

Felix's eyes lit up when he saw Anders and by some prearranged signal the family took seats around the kitchen table.

"You all know I'm leaving with Anders and Neria today," Felix said. "I... may not be back."

Jairo raised an eyebrow. "There's no way your _that _sick Papa. I would know."

Anders looked at his brother. "I'm sorry, Jairo. It's complicated - to do with the darkspawn. You haven't been able to sense it because you're not a warden."

Jairo looked like he was about to argue but Felix put his hand on his son's arm. "Trust Anders in this, Jairo. He knows what he's doing."

"That's why he needs to come back with us," Anders said. "The wardens know everything there is to know about the darkspawn taint. We can treat him... but it's not without its risk." He looked at Elana, especially. Maeve and Jairo had their lives in Highever - they hadn't left everything they knew behind to follow the man they loved. Elana had. "A lot of risk," he said. "I won't lie, there's a very real possibility he won't survive."

"But I won't survive without the treatment, either," Felix said. "And..." he looked at Elana. "And..."

"I'm coming with you," Elana said. Maeve and Jairo seemed unsurprised by this and Anders guessed she'd already discussed it with them.

"Elana..." Felix started.

"Did you not just say there was a chance you could die from this treatment?" she said. Felix looked at Anders in appeal but Anders raised an eyebrow. Truly, Elana had a point. "I am your wife, Felix. I have a right to be by your side if you're in danger of dying."

"She's right, Papa," Maeve said.

Anders looked at Felix, who seemed to be struggling. Elana crossed her arms over her chest and glared at her husband and finally the older man blushed and looked down. "I'd be glad to have you there, my love," he said softly. Jairo and Maeve grinned, although there was a lot of sadness in their eyes. Anders decided to leave them alone for the morning. He and Neria had supplies for their trip to gather. The Teryn had promised them a wagon and driver for the way back to Amaranthine. They wouldn't need guards - not with the company they were taking. If they were attacked on the road it would be another way to test the mettle of their recruits.

Neria was still sleeping when he got back up to their room. He leaned on the doorframe and looked at her for a moment, blinking back sudden tears, thinking of his mother - of Elana and Felix. A jet black strand of hair covered her eye and her pale, slender arm was flung above her head in relaxation. Pounce was curled next to her stomach, awake, but purring in contentment with his eyes closed.

She stirred, blinked a few times and looked over to where he would be lying if he were with her. The momentary look of confusion was touching. She looked up and saw him in the doorway and the confusion was replaced by a wide smile.

"Were you watching me?"

"Yes."

She sat up and stretched. "For how long?"

"Not long. It's time we were up and about though. We've got a blood mage to see before we start on the journey back, and Elana's made us some breakfast."

"Mmmm. Yes I can smell it. I think I was dreaming about it actually."

Half an hour later Felix was leading them out of the city gates. They'd packed their things before the tournament and the wagon was meeting them at midday, along with the recruits, so they had a few hours before they needed to be anywhere.

"He lives just outside the walls," Felix had said. "He grows herbs - that's how he makes his living. Most of our poultices are made from herbs that he supplies. It's how Joscelyn got to know him in the first place."

Whatever Anders had expected from a blood mage, Owen wasn't it. He'd met Jowan a few times, in the tower, but the boy (he'd only met him in his teens) had probably not become a blood mage by then and he'd made so little impression on Anders that even should he see him again at the Tower he probably wouldn't recognise him. Still, he had an image in his head of a blood mage looking something like Nathaniel - dark and brooding, with a hooked nose and shadowy eyes. Not this plump, nearly bald man with sun darkened cheeks and a cheerful smile.

He came out to meet them - his house nestled in a large field of herbs that bordered the eastern side of the city. It was a cheerful cottage set partially into the slope of the hill with flower boxes outside the windows and a comfortable feel.

"Felix!" the man hailed them as they approached, wiping his hands on a piece of rag. "This must be the son you were talking about. And his lovely lady as well."

"Owen," Felix said solemnly. "Yes. This is Anders and Neria."

"Indeed. I am honoured," he said, inclining his head slightly. When he looked up again Anders noticed his eyes, although crinkled at the edges from much smiling, were nonetheless piercing and blue and full of intelligence.

Anders couldn't bring himself to be uncivil to the man - he had after all managed to keep his stepfather alive for seven years, but he found the entire ensemble - the almost enforced... jolliness of the man's surroundings, suspicious.

"It's warmer inside," Owen continued, waving them in.

The interior of the cottage was as cheerful as the exterior, and cosier. A large fire warmed the hearth - the kitchen along one side of the living area was clean and well equipped, and several large armchairs were scattered around the stone floor, along with thick rugs. Owen motioned them to a chair each. "Would you like tea?" he asked. "I've just made some..."

Felix looked at Anders, who shrugged. "That would be lovely," he said.

A minute or so later they were all holding steaming mugs of a fragrant and very fine tea. Anders eyed the blood mage over the top of his cup and very deliberately took a sip. Owen laughed.

"Come now," he said. "I'm unlikely to poison guests. Even if I am a blood mage. There are far more _interesting _ways to cause hurt using blood magic, my friend."

Anders gave the man a half grin. "Excuse me if I'm a little... on edge," he said. "My companion was present at the Tower during Uldred's rebellion. We have no cause to trust your kind."

"Just as the rest of Thedas has no cause to trust regular mages," Owen said, his eyes flashing slightly.

"Anders," Felix said warningly. "Owen was a friend to your mother for years."

He looked down at his tea for a moment and sighed. "True," he said. "My apologies. Has Felix informed you why we're here?"

"He tells me you want me to help someone with their research."

"Yes. We have a... another blood mage in the wardens. His name is Avernus. He's been researching ways to make the Joining ritual less... "

"Fatal?" Owen said, raising an eyebrow.

"You know about the Joining as well?" Neria said. Anders looked at Felix, who shrugged.

"Duncan used circle mages to prepare the Joining chalice," Anders said to Neria. "There are some mages who know almost as much about the wardens as we do."

"Why didn't he use warden mages?"

"There weren't any," Anders said. "I was the first Ferelden mage to be made a warden in more than two hundred years."

Neria looked like she wanted to ask more, but Anders shook his head slightly. This was warden history, and it was important, but not as important as what they had come here to ask Owen.

"In any case, that doesn't explain why _you _know," Anders said, turning back to the blood mage.

"I was once a circle mage," he said simply, shrugging. "Long, long before your time, the two of you are far too young to remember me."

"You escaped?" Anders cocked an eyebrow and Owen chuckled.

"Indeed. And I managed to find my phylactery and destroy it as well. I'm afraid I was one of the reasons you've had so much trouble locating yours, my friend. They move them around these days."

"Huh," Anders sat back in his seat. "That _would _explain things."

"So this warden mage of yours. Avernus. You want me to help him?"

"It would be interesting if the two of you could pool your research," Anders said. "He's consulted with other mages - from the Tower mainly, and I have visited him a few times, but I find his methods.. distasteful - not to mention incompatible with my specialties. And the King and Queen have made it quite clear that blood magic in the wardens would not make the Chantry happy, despite our _technical _immunity from their persecution."

"What would be in it for me?"

"We would pay you," Neria said. "Standard warden stipend - you'd be working for us of course."

"I need nothing. As you can see, I live a very comfortable life. I have been safe from the Chantry for decades. Why would I want to leave?"

Neria shifted in her seat. "Perhaps we could convince Avernus to come here instead?" she said.

"He's more than two hundred years old," Anders countered. "I honestly think Owen here is more suited to travel."

"Could you not just make the trip?" Felix asked. "You don't have to stay. The wardens will compensate you."

Owen got to his feet and took his cup back to the kitchen. "This all presupposes that I actually want to share my research with anyone," he said with his back to them.

"When are you going to use it?" Anders said. He really didn't want to resort to conscripting the man, even though he was finding it increasingly difficult to believe that his mother was friendly with him. "Wardens are the only ones who are regularly in contact with the darkspawn taint. You can't tell me having all this knowledge about treating it and not being able to do anything with it is satisfying."

Owen turned. "Perhaps I came upon my knowledge by accident. Perhaps I don't _care _to continue my research. Perhaps..."

"Perhaps you _are _a dangerous malificar who needs to be reported to the Chantry," Anders snapped back.

"Are you threatening me?"

"Quite frankly, yes," he continued. "I could conscript you into the wardens as an apostate. No one need ever know you're a blood mage. We'll simply assign you to Soldier's Peak and you'll never be heard of again. Or you could go voluntarily and share what knowledge you possess, then return to Highever a free agent."

A smile played on Owen's lips. "But you won't," he said. "Because I know you, just as I knew your mother, and I know your stepfather. You're a _good _person. Seven escape attempts, and not a single, tiny step towards blood magic? You won't _force _me to do anything."

"But I might," Neria said softly. Anders looked at her. Owen turned to her, surprised. "I'm the senior warden here," she continued. "I was practically exiled from the Tower for helping a blood mage escape. The wardens are tasked with doing _whatever it takes _to defeat the darkspawn. Do you think _I_ would hesitate to conscript you?"

Owen's face hardened. "There's no need to be snippety," he said, obviously offended. "I was going to go. I just.."

'You just wanted to play with them a little," Felix said, sighing. "Really, Anders. Neria. He's not as bad as he likes to make out."

Anders wasn't so sure. But he breathed a sigh of relief in any case. "You won't have to go immediately," he said. "We'll send a few wardens to escort you to Soldiers Peak once spring is here. It's not the kind of place you want to travel to in winter."

Owen nodded.

Anders saw no reason to stay. He didn't like Owen, had a feeling the man didn't like him or any of his family. He couldn't see any reason why the man would have helped his mother or Felix. But...

As they stood to leave, Neria placed her hand on Owen's arm. "Don't go anywhere," she said, softly enough so that Felix couldn't hear. Owen pressed his lips together, but shook his head.

On their way back to Highever Anders grinned at Neria. _"Your _turn to do the intimidating today?" he said.

She shrugged. "He was a slimy turd," she said frankly. "Felix, why on earth did you trust him?"

Felix sighed. "He's not the most pleasant of people," he acknowledged. "But Joscelyn always trusted him. And he's actually very good company if he's not feeling threatened."

"He's been living separate from mages for years," Anders mused. "Perhaps he didn't like being faced with our power? It might be hard, thinking of yourself as the only one for so long - to be confronted with.."

Neria was almost laughing. _"Us?"_

Felix put his hand on Neria's shoulder. "You are pretty intimidating."

"We've still got an hour before midday," Anders said.

"Enough time to get to the market district and pick up some... "

"Pork on sticks?" Felix laughed. "You two go ahead. I'll go and spend some time with Maeve and Jairo, and Elana and I will meet you at the gates."

"I'm uneasy about Owen," Anders said to Neria once Felix had left.

She nodded. "I haven't forgotten he was willing to let Felix sacrifice himself for whatever the... procedure to cure us of the taint was," she said. Anders frowned.

"It seems strange that my mother would have been friendly with him. And Felix..."

"I didn't detect any magic there," Neria said. "Although that doesn't really mean much. Blood magic leaves a different kind of signature to the regular kind. We'd need a Templar to tell the difference."

"I doubt he'd risk using blood magic this close to a Chantry."

"But he was treating Felix with blood magic," Neria pointed out.

Anders looked back. The cottage was still in view. So bright and cheerful.

_Creepy, _he thought.

They made their way back into the city.


	16. Chapter 16

_This chapter is slightly... uh.. disgustingly fluffy. I've been watching too many Pixar films lately. Apologies. Thanks to everyone who is reading and reviewing. Back to the meat of the story next chapter, I promise!_

_

* * *

_

"So, what were you saying about being the first Ferelden warden mage in 200 years?" Neria asked. They were perched on a wall in the market district, chewing on their pork and swinging their legs like children. Neria felt surprisingly carefree. It was the last day of their holiday together. She couldn't help feeling as though it had been a kind of honeymoon.

Anders waved his pork stick around as though it was a staff. "You know how the wardens were expelled from Ferelden after Sophia Dryden's rebellion..."

"Yes, I sat through Nathaniel's lecture on the subject."

"Hah. The _true _test of who our toughest wardens are. Well, when Duncan came back from Orlais and became Warden Commander he wanted to recruit mages, but the Chantry wouldn't let him."

"Wouldn't _let _him?"

Anders shook his head. "He had a few Orlesian mages with him, and at first that's why the Chantry _said _he couldn't have any more. Something about too many mages in one place being a danger to the veil. But the Orlesian mage wardens were older and went to their calling pretty early on in the piece. So Duncan was left without any mages at all."

"But I thought the right of conscription..."

"Commander Cousland read all of the records that survived the Blight," Anders continued. "She brought them with her back to the Vigil when we moved there. Duncan kept extensive journals - all the warden commanders are supposed to actually..."

Neria snorted. "I bet Sigrun loves it!"

"Anders Grinned. "She much prefers reading the old ones, it's true. In any case Duncan approached the Tower for mage recruits every year after the wardens were brought back to Ferelden, but he was denied access. The Chantry wouldn't even let him _see _any potential recruits, let alone conscript them."

"What did Weisshaupt have to say about it?"

"Weisshaupt never knew," Anders said. "King Maric thought it best to let it lie - he was new to power and the Chantry's support was important enough for him not to want to upset them. Duncan was his friend and very conscious of how tenuous the Warden's position in Ferelden was, so he went along with it. The Circle was still bound by the treaties to give aid during a Blight, so there _would _be mages in that case, and I suppose he figured it would be easier to be accepted by the populace if he didn't push it."

"Is that why we've been having so much trouble getting mages from the Circle?" Neria asked. "Pressure from the Chantry?"

Anders was licking pork grease of his fingers, feeding the last of his meat to pounce with the other hand. The ginger cat was purring outrageously loudly - perhaps aware that he was nearly on his way back to the place he considered his territory. If any other cats had decided the Vigil was fair game during his absence there would be a few sleepless nights for the wardens as they listened to him reassert his dominance.

"It's possible," Anders said, once his tongue was free. "I can't imagine the Chantry would just step back and let us take whoever we want. Although they did give us _you."_

"I begged Irving to let me join the wardens. Every year after the Blight. He always said no. They always offered three recruits though."

"The three recruits he offered were nearly always laughable," Anders said. "From what Sigrun told me the year before you joined was the worst - we didn't take any of them. Whereas in _your _year we got three recruits who all survived the Joining and are all remarkably competent."

"Branwen and Armand aren't exactly Chantry stooges though," Neria said. "I know they both abhor blood magic, but that's got more to do with Uldred than listening to sermons. Maybe Irving was covering up their competence? Maybe he _wants _to give us more mages, but has to be careful about who he offers because of the Templars?"

"Greagior is a good man," Anders said. "Much as I despise his order. He and Irving... they seem to have an understanding with each other about the circle. Irving's always been grateful that Greagior let Miranda in during the rebellion - if he'd chosen he could have kept the doors sealed and called for the rite of annulment..." Anders shuddered suddenly and gripped her hand in his. "Maker, I hadn't thought of that before. You could have been..."

"But I wasn't," she said, squeezing his hand back, touched at his concern.

"Something changed the year you were recruited," Anders said. "I'd give a lot to know what."

"Didn't you spend some time at the Tower with the King and Queen - the year before I joined the wardens?"

Anders shifted uncomfortably. "Yes," he said.

"Could that have something to do with it?"

"I don't see how. We were there to protect the king and queen, not recruit wardens."

She pursed her lips. "Well. We might never find out."

"I certainly never have any intention of going back to the Tower to ask," he replied, grinning at her.

She grinned back and took his hand, jumping down to the ground. He landed beside her and took the opportunity to enfold her in a hug. "Thank you," he said softly, his breath moving the hair on top of her head. She pressed her cheek into his chest, breathing in his scent and enjoying the warmth.

"What for?" she asked.

"Coming with me. Meeting my family. I..." he stroked her hair with one hand.

She squeezed him a little tighter, tears suddenly pricking at the corners of her eyes. "Don't be silly," she said. "As if I'd let you run off anywhere by yourself. You'd just get yourself mistaken for an apostate - or killed - or _seduced _by some wanton hussy..."

_"Seduced?"_

She pulled back and looked at him. "You should have seen the way some of those women were looking at you last night. I nearly flamed a few of them."

"Oooh. Jealous Neria. I wish I'd noticed."

"Well you might get a chance if that Maryleth keeps eyeing you the way she was.."

"The elf...?" his eyes brightened and Neria shot him with a bolt of lightning. Hard enough to make him help.

"On the street!" Came a voice from a few feet away. "In front of children! You flaunt your defiance of the Chant of Light! You are abominations!"

"Hey, easy on that last one, mister," Anders muttered, although not quite loud enough for the Templar to hear. He was standing in the corner of the square, and Neria could feel the power of his glare through the visor of his helmet. He reminded her of some of the Templars at the tower. There were two types, she remembered. The ones who saw them as humans and the ones who thought of them as abominations waiting to happen. This was one of the latter.

The citizens of Highever were avoiding the man and ignoring him. "Huh," Anders said. "Maybe you should try that spell combination on him. The one you were using on me last night?"

She cocked an eyebrow at him incredulously. "Are you _serious?"_ she said. "The last thing we need is a randy Templar rampaging through the streets. Most of those guys are on a knife edge of lust half the time _anyway. _I hate to think what one would do..."

"Just kidding," he said. "No one else _deserves _that spell anyway."

"I don't recognise him," she said. "But that's not saying much. He could have been at the tournament."

"At least he can see we're wardens," Anders said. "Otherwise I very much think we would have been smote by now."

"What _is _the past tense for that anyway? It seems weird to use _smitten..."_

"Neria.." He was smirking at her. Maker, that smirk.

"I don't want to hit him with a spell," she said. "But..."

"Before we go?" he could see what she was thinking, and pulled her closer to cover her lips with his, kissing her thoroughly and deeply, letting his hands wander over her back until she was pressing against him. She was dimly aware of the Templar continuing to rant and rave and wondered what it would feel like to be hit by a holy smite in the middle of...

..Oh, that was right. She _already _knew what that felt like. The thought made her giggle against Anders' lips and he broke away from her. "What?" he said.

"Oh, just remembering the last time we were hit with a holy smite together." His eyes flashed, grinning with the memory. "We should go though," she said, sighing. He laughed and took her hand, throwing a look towards the offending Templar. The man had stopped ranting now, but he was still glaring. She could feel the heat of his stare. When they reached the exit of the market district and she judged they were beyond smiting range, she looked back over her shoulder and deliberately, slowly, poked her tongue out at him.

* * *

At the gates they found their recruits, together with Felix, Elana, Maeve and Jairo, waiting for them.

"Finished stuffing your faces?" Maeve said, smiling. There was an edge of sadness there, however. Even if Felix survived the Joining he would likely be staying at the Vigil. Mistress Woolsey had been agitating for someone to assist her with the treasury for months and Felix was extremely qualified in that regard. Anders was secretly hoping Elana would take to the kitchen as well - although their chef was top notch, he couldn't work twenty four hours a day and the wardens would appreciate another deft hand. Jairo and she were effectively losing their father.

Anders embraced his sister. "You two will always be welcome at the Vigil," he said. He gave Jairo a significant look as he shook his hand. "Especially if things get jumpy here."

"If you two aren't around provoking Templars I doubt it will be a problem," Jairo said.

"Uh, about that..."

"Oh, I've already heard about the market district," Jairo continued. "We've got friends there, you know." Anders felt himself blush. "Don't worry, brother. I can handle myself."

Neria grinned and nodded. Jairo took the elf in a warm hug, looking at Anders over the top of her head as he did so.

"Watch those hands, brother," Anders said warningly. Jairo winked at him, but let Neria go.

They climbed up onto the wagon where the other recruits were waiting, somewhat awkwardly, already having said their goodbyes.

Anders looked down at his brother and sister and gave them a lopsided grin. He was thankful Maeve had come to find him - thankful Neria had come to meet his family. Although the shadow of Felix's joingin hung over him he felt completed, somehow. He patted the pocket where his mother's letter sat, close to his heart, and waved to his family as Neria clucked the horses into movement.


	17. Chapter 17

They were attacked three days out of Highever. Darkspawn this time, from one of the underground tunnels Sigrun had been trying to close for the past three years. Neria took note of the location on her map - they'd send Dworkin back with his explosives and his brother to make sure it was plugged and stayed plugged. The two dwarves had worked a system together that was surprisingly effective, although Voldrik still insisted it would only hold for half a century.

Half a century seemed like a long time to Neria. But dwarves had funny ideas about that sort of thing.

The recruits had balked at their first glimpse of darkspawn, all except for Hannah, who had simply waded into the fray grimly, swinging her Chasind Flatblade with consummate skill. She hadn't been reckless, though, and Anders' hastily thrown protection spells had not been necessary. The other recruits had comported themselves well once the initial shock of the darkspawn's monstrous appearance had worn off, and Neria was hopeful that they'd made the right choices. Maryleth even seemed to fight better out of a contrived situation - perhaps it was because she was working with her own gear, or perhaps she'd been self conscious about fighting in front of an audience. When her life was at risk, she was nearly as skilled as Vela.

Anders and she collected vials of darkspawn blood from the corpses, reasoning that the skirmish would count for the first part of the Joining ritual. There was no point in risking their recruits underneath the Vigil again. Unfortunately it prompted a lot of questions from the recruits about what the blood was for - Maryleth especially was persistent in badgering Anders about what the Joining entailed. Finally, exasperated, her lover had snapped at the elf "We use darkspawn blood to decorate our bedrooms, Maryleth," he'd said. "The Joining makes you _really like _the smell."

She'd shut up after that, although she still eyed the mage speculatively. Neria made a point of entwining her fingers with his whenever the elf rogue happened to look their way.

Anders didn't seem to mind.

They were greeted at the Vigil's gates by Nathaniel. It was mid afternoon and he looked troubled, although his face brightened when he saw how many others they had brought with them.

"Anders, Neria, I'm glad you're back," he said. "We have a... situation that involves you brewing."

Anders was helping Felix down from the wagon and Neria was collecting their packs. "What sort of situation?" she asked Nathaniel.

"Uh... it involves the Circle I'm afraid," he said. "I'll let you get settled, then Sigrun wants to see you in her office." Nathaniel looked at Felix curiously.

"Nathaniel, this is my stepfather, Felix," Anders said. "What sort of business would the Circle want with us?"

"I think I'd better let Rowan explain," Nathaniel said.

"Rowan's here? That's good news."

"That remains to be seen," Nate said. "In any case, come up to the office as soon as you can. I can deal with the recruits for now."

They made their way up to their room, where Pounce jumped down from Anders' shoulder and began his territorial prowl.

"The Circle?" Neria said as she let her pack fall.

Anders rolled his eyes. "Let's hope they're not going to start interfering in Warden business."

"Sigrun won't let them,"

"Let alone the King and Queen."

They divested themselves of staffs and made their way to Sigrun's office. Rowan, Wynne's son, was sitting in one of the large armchairs Sigrun favoured cradling a cup of tea. Neria had met the man before, but long ago, as he'd been allowed out of the Tower relatively early. One of the few mages the Chantry and the Templars deemed "safe" along with his mother, or possibly because of his mother. Anders had talked of him often, however, and with respect despite his adherence to Circle and Chantry rules.

She was surprised how much Rowan resembled his mother. The same clear blue gaze and air of competency surrounded him. She wondered exactly how old he was, and, remembering lessons in Healing with Wynne where she'd been bored enough to fall asleep, how willing he was to lecture.

The man grinned, however, when he saw Anders and got to his feet, setting his cup aside and holding out his hand to clasp Anders' warmly. "Good to see you, Anders," he said. Anders nodded.

"Likewise," he said. "How goes the Queen and Duncan?"

"They're in perfect health," Rowan said, a note of pride in his voice. "I'm not really needed at the Palace any more. Honestly I think King Alistair keeps me there out of habit more than anything else." Rowan's eyes fell on Neria. "I recognise you..." he said. "Neria, wasn't it? Irving spoke very highly of you to me when you first started excelling in classes."

Neria smiled lopsidedly. "I fell out of favour with Irving fairly early on," she said.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Rowan said. "He still speaks highly of you."

She flashed Anders a look, wondering exactly how much Irving knew.

"So, Nathaniel said you were here on Circle business," Anders said, taking a seat. Sigrun had remained significantly silent since their entrance, although Neria, looking at her now, got the feeling she was troubled by something.

Rowan's face turned serious and sat back in the chair he'd been occupying. Neria perched on the arm of Anders' chair without thinking, gaining a raised eyebrow from the Circle mage. Some things no one ever got used to, she supposed, even being out of the Tower as often as he obviously was.

"There's been another move by the Libertarians," he said. "They're calling for another mage council."

Anders looked at her, his mouth open. "The last council defeated them," he said. "And that was only a few years ago..."

Rowan shrugged. "They seem to think they have the numbers now. It could be something to do with modifying their demands. Last time they asked for a clean break - you remember?"

"Yes. Stupid of them. No one would support a total break from the Chantry..." Neria said.

"No one who isn't a mage, any way," Anders muttered.

"Indeed. But the proposal that's being offered up this time is much milder. They want to... well it's complex, but basically they want to decentralise the tower."

"You mean, put little Towers in every village - so the apprentices don't have to leave their homes?" Anders said. "But still under Chantry control I presume?"

"Naturally. And probably not every village. Maybe every Bann. There would be a contingent of Templars attached to each Tower in much the same way they are to each Chantry - a senior enchanter and a few senior mages to teach."

"Sounds extremely sensible to me," Anders said. "Although I could do without the Templars."

"It would be expensive to set up," Sigrun said. "But I agree. And imagine how much better the medical care in those villages would be with mages close to hand all the time?"

"It would probably make being an apostate a lot more difficult," Anders said, and Neria noted he was contemplative - almost certainly thinking of Jairo in Highever. But Jairo had the protection of Fergus, not to mention years of experience at how to hide his magic. "And I can't see most people wanting to let mages live that close to them, not with their current attitudes."

"The change would have to be gradual," Rowan said. "It's not as though we'd be able to disperse all the mages currently at the tower and as Sigrun said, it will be expensive. King Alistair has given his support, however, and even offered to cover some of the cost."

"What about the rest of Thedas?" Anders said. "The circle is world-wide - we can't implement changes in Ferelden without changing things everywhere else - everyone except for Tevinter and Rivain answer to the Divine in Orlais."

"And the Qun," Neria pointed out.

"Oh, yes. The Qun." Anders made a face. "Not that they'd be sending any mages to the Council."

"The Libertarians are expecting a lot of difficulty with Orlais especially, which is why this is so dangerous. As you can imagine, the Orlesian Chantry isn't keen on losing _any _control over its mages. But as Anders said - this would actually make apostasy _more _difficult - it will be very hard to live in a village that has a mini tower and having the Templars dispersed across the country, rather than locked up in Chantries and the Circle, would make hunting them far easier."

"So we're not actually going to get any more _freedom _from this," Neria said, somewhat bitterly. "Mages still won't be allowed to move around - they'll just be confined everywhere instead of in the one place."

Rowan looked at her with sympathy. "As I said, Neria, gradual change. If the decision to let a mage out isn't resting with _just _one Knight Commander and one First Enchanter, you'd have to think it would be reached more often."

"It would depend on the Knight Commander and Enchanter in question," Anders said. "And there's always the danger of putting nutcases in charge of your mini-towers." Rowan looked skeptical. "Oh, come on Rowan, you know some of the templars are completely batty. Give just _one _of them control over a Tower and you may as well kiss all the basic rights of the mages under his command away."

Rowan ran a hand through his greying hair. "These are all good points, Anders," he said. "Ones that have been raised and will need to be discussed at the council."

They were silent for a few moments. Neria knew there was something else, however, that the Circle mage wasn't saying. Anders had his chin sunk on his chest and his brooding face on. Although he made fun of the fact that most Circle mages were brainwashed and repressed and most people believed he valued his own freedom above any sort of organised freedom for his fellow magic users, _she _knew that emancipation from the Chantry was one of his fondest hopes.

"You still haven't explained to us why you're here, Rowan," Anders said finally. "Neria and I are grateful for the information, but truly it doesn't affect us - we're wardens."

Rowan looked slightly smug at that. "Actually it does," he said. "According to Circle law, which the Libertarians have been somewhat slavishly pouring over since the last Council, you and Neria both have seats."

"Seats?" Neria asked, but the look on Anders face - pure horror, told her exactly what Rowan meant.

"Yes. As the two senior Ferelden Warden mages, you're both expected to attend the Council, and you _both_ have a vote."


	18. Chapter 18

"Maker's Blood."

"You've already said that, Anders."

"Makers _blood _Neria. I can't say it enough."

"We've got to get ready for the Joining."

"Maker's, sodding, nug cursed _blood."_

"Anders..."

"I need to talk to Oghren. Get some more curses. Dwarves are better at curses. Must be all that rock over their head."

"Really, Anders, is having a seat on the mage council _really _that bad?"

"_Maker's blood!"_

"I'm guessing it can be then."

They were in their room. Anders had his head in his hands, sitting on their bed. Their gear was still unpacked. She didn't know where Nathaniel had taken Felix and the other recruits - she assumed they were going to meet Sigrun. Anders had managed to talk to Sigrun about Felix, and his stepfather would be taking part in the Joining that evening, but on the way out of Sigrun's office the deep seated shock had obviously settled in. Anders' reaction to Rowan's news seemed entirely out of proportion to what was being asked of them.

"The Libertarians didn't dig through centuries of Circle law to find out we were technically allowed to sit on the council so we could warm our bums and keep quiet," Anders said. "They're going to ask us to contribute. They're going to ask us for our _opinions._ And our opinions are going to _matter."_

Neria knelt in front of Anders and pulled his hands away from his face. Once he was looking up at her she hitched her robes around her hips and sat on his lap. Hard. He encircled her waist with his arms but the gesture was automatic and his face was still scrunched in panic. She took his chin in her hand and shook his face gently. "And why is that a bad thing?" she said. "Do you think your opinion _doesn't _matter?"

"Yes actually, I very much think it doesn't matter. At least I _know _it doesn't matter to the Chantry and as for the Circle... Did I ever tell you what happened that time they asked me to lecture them about the Architect?"

Neria blinked. "That was _you?"_

Anders groaned and let his forehead fall forward onto her shoulder. "Don't tell me you were there..."

She tangled her hands in his hair, trying not to laugh. "Of course I wasn't there. I was a rebel by that stage, remember? I think I was up in the Harrowing chamber trying to convince Cullen he could fly."

Anders' shoulders shook a little at that. "Well, that's a relief."

She pulled his head up again and looked into his eyes. "Anders, I'll be there with you. We'll get through it."

He looked into her eyes for a few seconds before shifting a little and pulling her head back down to his. Their kiss was desperate on his part and willing on hers, their tongues entwining and her breath quickening at the raw _need _she could feel welling in him - not for sex so much, although she certainly could tell he was thinking about that as well, but for _her. _

When they broke apart they were both gasping and Anders looked a little sheepish. He shifted underneath her, obviously uncomfortable and she laughed. "Better?" she asked.

"No," he said huskily, then twisted her until she was on her back and he was crouched over her. "But I will be."

His face was in shadow above her, she could only make out the sharp line of his jaw and a glint of power in his eyes. His hands roamed over her body, lingering on her hips, her waist and her breasts before he started unlacing her robes. She didn't move, content to let him do what he needed, watching him.

She was naked remarkably quickly - but then he'd always been efficient in that regard. His lips and teeth started to follow the same patterns his hands had moments before in reverse, edging downwards agonizingly slowly. She let her eyes drift shut and sensation overcome her as she felt his long fingers roam down to her centre. He was gentle, and slow, and so, so good that she was soon gasping and lifting her hips. He replaced his fingers with his tongue and the gasps turned into cries as she clutched his head and wrapped her legs around him. She came, fiercely, letting her head crash back against the bed and hoping, belatedly, she hadn't broken her lover's neck.

When she opened her eyes Anders was above her, grinning, his robes gone (he was even more adept at getting _himself _naked than at getting her there) and pressing himself into her. She sighed as he filled her and grinned back up at him as he began to move. She urged him faster quickly, wanting _more _and _there _with an intensity that shocked her, given she had already climaxed. He was willing to match her pace and they finished quickly. There was no magic this time - just raw need and as he collapsed on her, panting, she realised she needed him as much, if not more than he seemed to need her.

She stroked his hair and looked at the ceiling as they caught their breath, enjoying his scent, the feel of sweat cooling on their bodies - the simple _closeness _of two people - things she'd never had in the tower, couldn't truly remember from her parents. Although she believed she'd loved Tobias, there had never been the opportunity she'd had with Anders to explore that - to find out what it meant for them _physically _as well as emotionally. Darkened trysts in corners and fumbling caresses under the watchful eyes of the templars had _nothing _of the tenderness, or closeness she could feel above her and around her and inside her now.

Her eyes were misting as she thought of all the other mages who would never feel this if the Tower continued the way it was. She tightened her grip on Anders, wanting suddenly to keep him where he was, always, forever. They may have just found his family, but hers, hers was _here._

He lifted his head and looked at her, sensing the change in her mood. "What is it?" he said.

"Thinking," she replied. He raised an eyebrow, moving to get off her, but she squeezed her legs around him, demanding he stay precisely where he was. He lifted himself up on an elbow instead and even that small removal of his skin in contact with her made her sigh a little in disappointment.

"Should I be worried?" he asked.

She shook her head, reaching up a hand to tuck a strand of loose blond hair behind his ear. "We can do this," she said softly. "They think _we _can do this."

"Sorry, not following you particularly well. Who thinks we can do what?"

She punched his shoulder lightly. "The Council. We can sway them. Free the mages. That's why the Libertarians want us."

Anders pulled off her and onto his back on the bed, sighing. "Free the mages," he said. "Why do the Libertarians think _we _can do it?"

"How many warden mages are there in Thedas?" she asked him. "Weisshaupt must have some - we know Orlais does. But they've never been called to a council before. The Chantry must have suppressed the knowledge somehow - hidden the records. Maker knows how the Libertarians found it again. I wonder if it goes all the way back to Andraste?"

"Why hide the records? Wardens don't interfere in politics.."

"Wardens don't interfere in the politics of _nations,_" Neria said. "The Circle - the Chantry, they both span Thedas. They affect _everyone. _The fact that Duncan couldn't recruit any mages affects us. If he'd been a mage - if he'd raised it with Weisshaupt - don't you think Weisshaupt would have said something?"

"Neria, my love - your brain is working too quickly for me, not that it doesn't _always _but.. what exactly are you getting at?"

"If we've been called to the council, you can bet all the other warden mages have as well," she said. "It's not going to be _just us, _Anders," he sat up suddenly and she did the same, crossing her legs on the bed. "It's going to be all the senior warden mages. We'll have enough numbers to _make a difference."_

"Providing the other warden mages think the same way we do," Anders pointed out, but she could hear the excitement in his voice.

"I bet you the Chantry doesn't _know _the Libertarians have discovered that little law, otherwise they'd be trying to circumvent it somehow. Make the council in a week so the wardens from the Anderfels can't get here.."

"I never pictured Rowan as a Libertarian," Anders said softly.

"He spent thirty-five years in the same building as his mother _without knowing she was his mother," _Neria said forcefully. "I'm just surprised he didn't try to burn the whole place down once he found out."

Anders made a face. "I suppose you're right," he said. "So.. what do we do? Should we write to Weisshaupt? Arrange to meet the other warden mages before we go to the Council? We don't have a whole lot of time."

"The council's in Val Royeaux," Neria said, and she got to her feet and started to pace. "Naturally. They'd want it in the seat of the Chantry's power. I doubt we'll be able to get messages to the other warden mages before we get to the council that won't get there before the wardens have left, but I'd imagine they'll be staying at the warden compound once they _do _get there. We should have an opportunity to talk to them. If the Libertarians are smart they've sent mage messengers like Rowan to deliver the news - they can haste their way to Weisshaupt in a month or so. It's possible the warden mages will make it to Val Royeaux a good deal earlier than all the others." She stopped pacing and looked at him, still half reclined on the bed - gloriously naked. She put one hand on her hip, drinking him in with open admiration which he obviously noticed and returned, as a glint came back into his eyes and his tongue snaked out over his lips.

"So you say we should leave as soon as possible?" he said. "Get to Val Royeaux early in the hope that the wardens will have some sort of plan for the council?"

She nodded firmly. "If Sigrun will..." there was a knock at the door and she spun towards it to open it, only to jump back at a small electric jolt through her body.

"Ah, my love?" Anders said as she spun back round to see him lowering his hand. She frowned at him.

"What?"

"Clothes would probably be a good idea first."

She looked down at herself and felt heat rush to her face. Not only was she naked - but there was clear evidence of what they'd been doing a few moments before on her thigh, not to mention the teeth marks on her shoulder.

"Ah," she said. "Could you...?"

He grinned and called forth some healing as she made her way to the washbasin. "Who is it?" she called.

"Nathaniel," came the terse reply. "There _is _a joining to attend, if you haven't forgotten."

"Sorry," Anders called back, although he couldn't repress a grin. "We'll be there in a moment." There was a grunt in reply and she heard the rogue's footsteps retreating.

Anders came up behind her, soft warm hand on her shoulder, magic pulsing to heal the wound there as she washed. He let his fingers linger on her collarbone and bent his lips to her ear, kissing lightly, making her eyes drift closed. When she opened them again she found him looking at her in the mirror. His mouth was slightly parted and his expression was half pensive, half lustful. She turned her head to place a kiss on his cheek.

"We need to get down to the hall," she said. "Felix will be waiting."

He nodded, closing his eyes briefly as she remembered exactly what _this _Joining could cost him. She reached up and cupped a cheek and he squeezed her shoulder in thanks before turning to gather his clothes.


	19. Chapter 19

"We speak only a few words before the joining," Sigrun was saying. Anders let the words wash over him. He'd been to several Joinings since his own, but they never got any easier. For some reason he was remembering Neria's the most vividly this time. The look on her face as she'd tasted the cup, the flash of white in her eyes as she felt the pull of the demon blood...

She'd survived of course. But even now he thought of the risks they took and shuddered.

The other wardens present had looked at Felix curiously when he arrived. A brief explanation of his taint had ensued - and understanding had spread. Although the wardens were usually strict about accepting only warriors and mages in the prime of their lives and the top of their skills, there was precedent for allowing those who had been contaminated with the taint to attempt the Joining - after all, it was their only chance at life.

Anders was only sorry that this was the first time he'd ever gotten to someone in time for the Joining to do any good. Amaranthine especially had suffered several cases of taint sickness in the aftermath of the Mother's defeat, all of which had ended in death, some of which had been by the Commander's hand. Ghouls were ghouls, no matter what they might have been before.

When Felix raised the goblet to his lips he felt a small hand worm its way into his and squeeze his fingers with surprising strength. Anders held his breath as Felix swallowed, then fell backwards. Armand crouched next to him for a moment and Anders felt his heart hammer against his ribs with fear.

"He lives," the elf's voice came, soft and light and Anders closed his eyes in relief.

Vela, Maryleth, Hannah and one of the knights were also fortunate enough to live. The final knight was laid back with reverence by Armand. An extremely good ratio, even better than Sigrun's average. The unconscious forms of the surviving wardens were moved to cots and Sigrun approached them.

"Good work," she said. "It seems you two have an eye for who suits us."

Anders looked sadly at the corpse of the Knight - Henry his name had been. "Not good enough."

"Avernus might find a way we can test eventually," Sigrun said.

"Oh, yes. About that..."

Anders briefly explained their encounter with Owen and Sigrun raised an eyebrow. "Very interesting," she said. "Although it sounds a bit like he's as slimy as Avernus is."

"More," Neria said. "Avernus at least has the best interests of the wardens at heart. I'm not sure exactly _what _Owen has in his."

"Black goo, perhaps," Anders said. "But he's agreed to go to the Peak and pool research. At least, he did after Neria threatened to conscript him or turn him in as a maleficar."

Sigrun grinned at the petit elf. "That's my girl," she said. Neria grinned back at her. "About the mage council. I'm assuming you two want to get going as soon as you can? Rowan mentioned that the delegation from the Tower will be leaving in a month."

Anders stiffened. "They want us to go _with them?" _he said. "Who are they sending?"

"Um.. let me see if I can remember... Irving, Senior Enchanter...Torin, I think Rowan said, Greagoir and another templar called Cullen," Sigrun said. "And no, they don't want to travel with you, they don't even know you two are going. Apparently only the Libertarians know you two have seats."

"So what's with the templars?" Anders asked.

"Apparently the two senior enchanters and the two senior templars from every circle have seats, including some other Chantry representatives - a revered mother from each country I think."

Neria blanched. "Cullen's a senior Templar?" she said.

Sigrun raised her eyebrow at her. "You know him?"

She made a face. "Yeees..."

"Didn't you say he was the Templar most assigned to you?" Anders said.

She nodded, but her expression didn't change. "He... um... yes. He was." There was more to it, he could tell. "Anders and I want to get to Val Royeaux early," she said hastily, before he could ask any more. "We want to meet up with the other mage wardens and discuss... options."

Sigrun's delicate eyebrow raised. "Options?"

"Neria thinks we have a chance to change the circle, if the mage wardens and the Libertarians combine forces. She also thinks this business about mage wardens being allowed seats on the council is _not _common knowledge."

"I certainly didn't know about it, and I'm Warden Commander," Sigrun said. "Not that that means much in Ferelden. The First Warden sometimes seems to forget we're even here, despite ending the last Blight."

"Hey, we're just a tinpot little country that smells like dog," Anders said, shrugging. Sigrun laughed.

"You're seriously going to try to change the way they run the circle?" she asked then. "You'll be going up against the Chantry - they're not big on changing things."

"If you can spare us, yes," Neria said. "I know we've been away for a while already but..."

Sigrun waved a hand. "No darkspawn at the moment," she said. "No demons, no fade spirits. And your apostates are shaping up fantastically. Not to mention the fact that you've brought me five more recruits. I think we can do without you for a while. When do you plan on leaving?"

"I want to get there at least a week before the council," Neria said.

"You're going to need to take a ship," Sigrun said. "Otherwise the circle mages will get there before you even if they walk. There's a captain due in Amaranthine in a month who'll take you. Should get you there a week and a half before the council starts. It'll give you a month to work with Zevran and the apostates - I'm assuming you two still want to learn as much as you can of the new spells?"

Neria was nodding enthusiastically and Anders found a thrill of excitement in his chest - he'd all but forgotten about the possibility of shapeshifting and arcane warriorness, despite Neria's practice exercises with Pounce.

"Zevran's here?" Neria asked and Anders was somewhat charmed to see a slight blush colour what parts of Sigrun's skin were visible under her tattoos.

"Yes, and to stay apparently," she said. "King Alistair and Queen Miranda have released him from his court duties to serve the Wardens on a permanent basis. Well, as permanently as he does anything."

"Not going to take the Joining?" Anders asked. Sigrun shook her head firmly.

"Speaking of which - I believe our recruits are coming to," she said. Anders looked immediately at the prone figure of his stepfather, who's greying head was moving from side to side.

"He'll want to be with Elana," Anders said.

"Nathaniel assigned her a room in the west wing," Sigrun said, motioning a servant over to them. "Beth will show you where."

Anders and Neria went with the servant to Felix's side. His stepfather sat up, looking haggard and shocked. Anders called forth healing magic and gently took the older man's face in his hands, channeling it into him, knowing exactly how he felt.

"I rather thought I'd wake up dead," Felix said, the edges of a grin around his mouth.

"I rather thought you would too," Anders replied, then caught him in a hug that was returned as fiercely as it was given. "Come on. Elana is waiting for you."

They delivered Felix to Elana, who was remarkably composed for someone who hadn't been allowed to watch her husband get the treatment that could save him or kill him, then turned back towards the kitchens and food. The worry about Felix and their activities before the Joining had left his stomach rumbling ferociously.

"So what was all that about Cullen?" Anders asked as they walked. "You really didn't want to talk about him." He could _feel _her tension rise.

"I.. ah.."

"Still really don't want to talk about him. What, were you lovers or something?"

"A templar? Are you serious?"

"Hey, it wouldn't be the first time."

"How many templars did _you _sleep with?"

He coughed. "There weren't that many female templars, if you remember."

"There was Rylock."

He made a face. "Eww. You had to mention _her, _didn't you. But we were talking about _your _involvement with Templars here, not mine."

"Cullen... he... he had a crush on me. A big one."

Anders grinned. "Along with half the Templars in the Tower, I'll bet," he said. She looked at him. "No?"

"Not the way Cullen did. No."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well... you know how Uldred captured the senior mages and tried to turn them into abominations..." they reached the kitchens to find only a few wardens around the table - most had come from the Joining but it wasn't a regular meal time (or regular warden snack time) so the table was relatively empty. Anders grabbed a few rolls and some cheese from the bench and they sat at one end to have their snack.

"Yes."

"They did... other things to the Templars. I only found out about it afterwards because Irving told me."

Anders raised his eyebrows. "Other things?"

"Locked them up and let desire demons get to them, basically. Cullen was one of the only ones who managed to resist his. Most of the Templars who were inside the Tower when the rebellion happened ended up dead - by Miranda Cousland's hands actually."

"Poor bugger. Desire demons are no fun." He pursed his lips, thinking. "Well, they're no fun unless you give in to them, any way."

"Cullen's desire demon - it tried to get at him by pretending it was me."

Anders had his mouth full but he couldn't stop his jaw from dropping in sudden understanding. "And he _resisted _it?" She nodded. "I may have to shake that man's hand when I meet him. Or set him on fire. I'm not entirely sure which." He looked at her over the roll he was holding. "You still haven't told me everything."

Her dark eyes flashed at him. "Irving thought it would be good..." she let out a breath in frustration "_healing_ for him if he was re-assigned to guard me after the rebellion."

Anders blinked. "He let Cullen be your personal Templar?" he said, his voice rising to something resembling a shriek. She nodded. "_After _he'd spent weeks trying to resist a desire demon who took your form?" She nodded again. "Maker's blood. I'm even _more_ insulted that man is related to me."

She shrugged. "Cullen was under strict instructions not to kill me for anything short of performing blood magic directly in front of him," she said. "And he didn't want to. Not really. He just... never quite believed I was the real Neria."

Anders swallowed. "So.. did he still... I'm a bit weirded out to be even asking this, but did he still..."

"Have feelings for me? Yes. He said as much. Of course, he thought he was talking to a demon at the time, so he didn't hold back about how he felt. It was quite enlightening."

"Have I mentioned that the Tower is an incredibly creepy place?" he said. "With creepy bits? I can only thank Andraste we got you out of there when we did."

Neria took a bite of cheese, her cheeks slightly red and looking thoughtful. "You know, Irving was right about it being healing for him. After the rebellion he was ranting and raving about ALL of us being abominations. He really _really _wanted Greagoir to use the Right of Anullment on us, even after Wynne and Miranda and the others had killed Uldred. He even said to Greagoir that he thought Irving was possessed. But once he was assigned to me he... well he seemed to calm down a lot. He didn't think we were all abominations any more."

"Just you."

She grinned. "I'm hoping Irving has convinced him otherwise by now," she said.

"If he hasn't there could be trouble at the Council."

"I don't think Greagoir would have made him a senior Templar if he still thought that way."

"Greagoir doesn't know you'll be on the Council."

She twisted her lip and looked down. "We got on all right. Cullen and me. In the end."

"Even though he thought you were a demon?"

"Possibly _because_ he thought I was a demon. It was easier for him to talk to me that way... you're laughing at me."

Anders shook his head, but his lip was twitching. "No. Well, yes I am." She shot him with a tiny ice spell between the eyes. "Ouch," he said. "Cold headache."

"Your own fault."

"Come on, it's funny. A tragic love tale. Templar boy, bound by vows of chastity, falls for beautiful elven mage wench..."

"Watch who you call wench, Anders..."

"Is captured and tortured by evil desire demons, withstands them, only to have said _wench_ swept away by the first handsome apostate who comes her way..."

"Ice isn't the only thing you're going to get between the eyes..."

He laughed and caught her hand in hers, kissing the fingertips before she could release any more spells in the direction of his head. "You didn't tell me if you returned his affections..." he murmured, lips still touching the delicate skin of her wrist. She snatched her hand away and cuffed his head.

"Don't be stupid," she said. Anders felt a little niggling worry that he didn't even know was there disappear and he grinned. She cocked an eyebrow. "Although, come to think of it, he _did _have a lovely voice..."

Anders pulled her to her feet, scattering cheese and rolls across the table. The other wardens gave them an amused glance, used to Anders' tendency for the dramatic. She fell against him, so tiny, and he lifted her into his arms, suddenly jubilant. Felix was alive. They were going to free the circle. And this tiny elf mage was going to be very, _very _happy in a few moments that she'd ended up with him rather than a stuffy templar with a metal suit and no sense of humour.

"Anders!" she shrieked.

"Not listening," he said. "You're coming with me, _wench."_


	20. Chapter 20

_A bit of fun this Chapter. Anders is being cheeky with my muse and Neria is playing along because well... Anders is HOT. I must give a shout out to __**Sweetfoxy7**__ on Deviant Art who has done a simply amazing piece of Anders artwork - if you frequent the BSN you'll know which one I mean - I've taken to having it open in a window next to me as I write Anders because well - it's GREAT. Also to all the other artists who've done artwork for me - __**Val51 **__who did great work for __Caged, __**Galagraphia**__ who has done one portrait of Neria and an absolutely GORGEOUS one of Neria and Anders, __**Payroo**__ who's commission of Neria and Anders really captures their cheekiness magnificently and __**Aimo**__ who did a fabulous commission of Miranda and Alistair. They are all on Deviant Art under the names I've mentioned - check them out, watch them, favourite them! I am constantly amazed at how talented you people are. Thank you so much!_

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The next month was interesting and absorbing - to the extent that Neria didn't really have time to muse on what the Council would bring. Shapeshifting and weapons training took up all of her time that wasn't spent with Anders. Surprisingly, Anders took to weapon training quite well - he was probably their best mage-swordsman other than Branwen, who as predicted was doing very nicely indeed. Zevran had taken one look at Neria and given her a matched pair of daggers which she took as a polite way of saying to stay out of melee as much as possible. Still, she trained, and found the sheer physical nature of using weapons to be something she enjoyed.

She was fast, and if push came to shove, she probably would be able to hold her own against one opponent, so long as they weren't too much bigger than her, but her first instinct about the arcane warrior specialisation had been correct - it wasn't for her.

Shapeshifting, on the other hand, was becoming a passion for her. The biggest problem was the necessity for animals to study in order to master the art. Helena could take the form of a hawk, a hala and a mouse - all useful for travel and stealth, but Neria was interested in the possibilities offered by more aggressive creatures.

"What about a spider?" Anders said to her over dinner one evening with the other senior wardens. She paused with her fork halfway up to her lips, remembering the two encounters she'd had with giant spiders in the past.

"A spider?" she could hear the way her voice all but squeaked at the thought.

He shrugged. "Sure. There's more than enough of them to study down in the deep roads - we've been having to clear them out every few months or so. We could capture one for you and bring it back to the keep."

"You make it sound easy," Nathaniel said. "Most of the time when you're down there you're setting them on fire.."

Anders shrugged again. "It _would_ be easy. I can firestorm the nest, as usual, but I can forcefield one spider while I'm doing it. Then all we need to do is net it and drag it back up to the keep."

Sigrun snorted. _"All _you need to do..."

Zevran, seated next to the Commander, looked thoughtful. "You know, Morrigan could take the form of a spider," he said.

"Morrigan? Flemeth's daughter?" Anders asked.

Zevran nodded. "It was very useful on occasion - if she was cornered for example. Our little Neria would be in far less trouble from physical attacks should she be able to take such a form."

"It wouldn't help against magic draining attacks though," Nathaniel pointed out.

Anders pointed at Nathaniel and Sigrun with his fork. "That," he said, "is the rest of the party's job. And shapeshifting in battle would be a last resort, I would think."

Neria nodded, chewing thoughtfully. She didn't like the idea of being a spider - although she didn't have the creeping terror of them some of the other apprentices and even mages in the Tower had, she wasn't fond of them, but there was no denying it would be useful. Spiders were stealthy, but large. She would be able to drop on enemies from above, bind them in webs, poison them...

"Eww," she said suddenly.

"What?" Anders was smiling.

"Well, if we get a poisonous one, presumably I'll be able to bite people..."

Zevran laughed under his breath. "Morrigan assured me one did not... keep the flavour after returning to your regular form."

"You asked her that, did you?" Anders said, grinning at the Antivan.

"Oh, I asked her many things about her shapeshifting abilities," Zevran replied, matching his grin. "She often refused to answer, of course. But on this occasion she was quite willing to share the information. Apparently spiders don't have tongues, or tastebuds, or teeth - they cocoon their victims and suck the bodily fluids from them directly. No need to taste in the way we do. And unless you plan on staying in spider form and having lunch, you will never even have cause to do that."

Neria realised she had been staring at Zevran with her mouth open and a fork full of food halfway to her mouth and clamped it shut immediately, putting the fork back firmly on her plate. Sigrun chuckled.

"I guess you're not so keen, then Neria?" she said.

Neria shook her head. "No, I'm intrigued, actually. A spider form would be very useful. Helena says we can master up to four different forms easily enough. I've got Pounce down, a spider would be a good second. As far as the other two go - I think one should definitely be a bird of some kind, but I've got time to make those decisions."

"So... should I organise an expedition to the deep roads?" Anders said. "I can take Nathaniel since he seems so keen on proving I can't catch a spider..."

"I didn't say that, Anders."

"I'll go," Oghren said. "I haven't chopped enough heads lately."

Sigrun shifted in her seat and Neria knew she was itching to say she would go as well, but with Nathaniel already snagged she would have to stay in the keep. Anders was looking at her with an eyebrow raised and she smiled and shook her head. "You know how much I'd love to go hunting spiders with you," she said, "but I've got work to do here."

"I shall bring you back a gift then," he said. "A huge, eight legged, hairy, _scary_ gift."

Zevran chortled. "Is this a mage thing?" he asked. "I doubt any of my lovers would have appreciated such a gesture."

Sigrun gave the elf a lopsided grin. "Oh, I don't know, Zev," she said. "There's something to be said for a grand gesture."

Zevran cocked an eyebrow at the Warden Commander. "I shall remember it, fearless Commander," he said, his voice lowering. Sigrun's eyes twinkled.

Anders grinned and looked over at Neria, his own eyes sharper than usual. "Let no one say I don't look after you, my dear."

* * *

"Well, that explains why they keep coming back," Anders said, sitting back on his heels as they looked into the cavern. An enormous queen spider sat surrounded by thousands of eggs in the middle of the dimly lit space. White webs hung in strands from the ceiling which was dotted with lyrium veins. The entire scene was otherworldly and, Anders privately admitted to himself, terrifying.

They'd only come across the cavern thanks to Oghren's stone sense - chasing a spider that Anders had originally pegged as the one they would take back to Neria. Unfortunately his forcefield had not lasted long enough and it had managed to escape once its fellows had been burned. They had chased it for a good couple of hours before it had disappeared into a crevice.

Anders and Nathaniel had examined the crevice and deemed it too narrow for them to follow, but Oghren had grunted and said there was another entrance. After an hour of searching they'd discovered it - a narrow tunnel that made Anders squirm - especially seeing as it was coated here and there with spider web and slime. He'd never quite gotten over his claustrophobia. None of the other wardens save Oghren knew about it - thank the Maker, and he suspected the dwarf had been drunk when Anders had told him. Although years of work in the deep roads had pushed it down to a level where he could cope with it - the tunnel made his breath short with repressed panic. He hoped Nathaniel hadn't noticed.

Seeing the Queen spider, though, had made them all a little squirmy. Nathaniel was rubbing his neck repeatedly. Anders chewed his lip thoughtfully.

"Now _that _would make a lovely gift for my lady," he said eventually. Oghren looked at him as though he was crazy. There were only a few other spiders beside the queen scattered throughout the cavern, but the queen - well she was enormous.

"How do we get it through the tunnel?" Nathaniel said.

"Spiders are pretty foldable," Anders said. "How do you think that other spider got through the crack _we _couldn't get through? It was bigger than Oghren."

"So are you proposing we drag it through behind us and hope it doesn't break anything on the way back up to the keep?" Nathaniel said. "It's got to weigh more than the three of us put together."

"I'll put it to sleep," Anders said. "And I can heal it once we get there."

"I can drag three times my body weight," Oghren piped up.

"Do I want to know how you found that out?" Anders asked, wincing.

"Heh heh. I'll tell you if you want. After a few drinks when we get back to the keep," Oghren said. "Come on, Nate, let's help Sparkle Fingers convince his lady he's grown a pair."

"You two are as bad as each other," Nathaniel said, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

* * *

Neria was in the training field with Helena when they got back. There were shouts from the courtyard that she could hear - the training field being just next door - and she was certain she heard Nate's voice amongst them. Helena raised an eyebrow at her and nodded, and Neria slung her staff over her back and ran towards the noise.

The shouts, it turned out, were because of what the group was dragging with them, not because any of them had been injured - although Anders was looking a little hagged and weary around the eyes. He only really got _that _look if he'd been expending a lot of healing magic.

Tangled in a net was the most enormous spider she had ever seen. It was at least twice the size of Anders. Possibly three times. And it was hideous. Green splotches covered its fleshy body, eight eyes in two rows on its head, dripping fangs, hairy legs. She _hadn't _been scared of spiders before today, but she thought she might have nightmares for the rest of her life of this one.

She was going to be spending a lot of time studying it.

Anders, who had been directing a few dwarves to take hold of the net - very carefully she noted, looked up at her.

"What do you think?" he said, spreading his hands and grinning his most charming smile. "I looked simply _everywhere _for one that would suit."

She rolled her eyes, although part of her wanted to burst into laughter. "We're going to need a bigger cage for it," she said.


	21. Chapter 21

_This will be the last chapter update for a little while I'm guessing! Off to hospital tomorrow to be induced so there'll be at least a week before I can get to the computer again in any frame of mind to write or type up my handwritten notes. There WILL be updates after that, I promise! I'm going to aim for one update a week - so each story should get a new chapter every two weeks. I'm sure sometimes there will be more than that but I won't promise anything because I don't want to disappoint. One a week is definitely doable though! Thanks to everyone who reads and reviews and continues to love Neria and Anders as much as I do. _

_

* * *

_

"Neria, we _can't _take her with us!" Anders was saying as they packed. "She _won't _travel well."

"I don't want to leave her here," Neria replied. "She'll get lonely. And Helena might forget to feed her..."

"Helena wouldn't dare. If we didn't feed her she would have escaped by now and populated the entire keep with her offspring. Not to mention _what _on earth would we find to feed her when we're on the ship?"

Neria muttered something under her breath. Anders was fondly exasperated. When they'd brought the Queen spider back and seen the reactions of the other wardens he never would have dreamed Neria would form such a bond with the animal. More surprising was the reaction of the spider to _her. _When he and Nathaniel had finally managed to net the creature, it's spitting, snarling aggression had made him privately doubt that they'd EVER get it to stay still enough for Neria to study it. But once caged, the spider had calmed somewhat, and Neria had managed, with a few gentle spells and what appeared to be a natural talent with animals, to get the spider to be calm.

She'd ended up spending every waking moment of the next week with the spider to the extend that Anders was beginning to get jealous. Helena too, seemed to have a strong affection for the animal. Neria had even _named _it.

"She'll be here when we get back, Neria," Anders said, patting her shoulder. Neria grumbled a bit but nodded. "Any way, I thought you'd mastered the form?" She looked up at him with what looked like fear in her eyes. Anders thought he understood.

"What are we going to do with her... once Helena and I have..."

"There are many more mages who need to study shapeshifting," he said.

"It feels wrong, though," Neria said. "Keeping her locked up like that..."

"The fact that I've spent the last year or two routinely slaughtering her offspring doesn't bother you though?" Anders said, eyebrow raised. "We keep her for study. Or maybe there's a way to neuter her so we can let her go." Neria winced. "We can't let her go back down there and repopulate the deep roads, Neria. Those spiders were a serious hindrance to our expeditions. And besides, she'd only end up tainted with nothing but darkspawn to eat. Corrupted giant spiders are not fun."

She sighed and ran her hand through her hair. "You're not keen to learn shapeshifting then?" she asked him.

He shrugged. "Maybe a bird at some stage," he said. "I'll concentrate on the warrior bit for now though. I've still got to work on our apostates' healing skills - they're truly terrible. Teach first, learn later, that's what I'm up to at present."

"Oh, I thought it was 'change the entire structure of the mage's circle' first."

He grinned at her. He was fingering one of his scarves - the one he'd knitted on the trip to Tevinter. "Do you think it's going to be cold in Orlais?" he said.

She snatched the scarf from him. "No," she said. "It'll be the middle of summer, silly. Twice as hot as here. You _don't _need to pack your entire wardrobe."

"What about formal wear?" he said. "We'll be allowed out if we want! We can go to balls..."

She looked slightly panicked. "We'll be allowed out?" she said. "But I don't speak Orlesian..."

"I do," he said. She looked at him and he shrugged. "I never knew how far I was going to get when I escaped, and there were a few Orlesians still at the Tower when I was studying who were willing to teach me."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Exotic," she said.

"You never told me you liked foreign languages..."

She blushed a little. "I took Enchanter Rodrigo's class for six years. Have you ever seen me use a spirit spell?"

Anders laughed. "He was Antivan though."

She nodded. "Yes. It was the accent more than anything..."

He sidled next to her and slid his arms around her waist. "You know, I speak Antivan as well..." he whispered in her ear. A shiver ran through her as his breath brushed the tip and he tightened his arms a little.

"This," she said, a little breathlessly, "will not get us packed..."

_"Si potrebbe arrivare da qualche parte piu emozionante..." _he breathed. She let out a small moan, but firmly moved his hands away from her waist.

"I'm pretty sure your grammar is _terrible _Anders," she said. "And we still need to pack."

He gently sucked her earlobe before stepping back and moving to his pile of belongings. "True," he said. "I'll just have to stock up on a few phrases to use once we're on the ship."

She grinned at him.

* * *

Sigrun loaded him down with missives for the Orlesian Wardens and instructions to keep an eye out for any apostates who might want to defect to Ferelden, given the Orlesian Wardens had difficulty keeping apostates out of the way of the Chantry. Nathaniel gave him a list of taverns that were "good fun" which made Anders raise his eyebrows in shock - Nathaniel - who had barely cracked a smile in the years he'd known him - the last person in the universe he thought would be giving him advice on where to drink.

Oghren told him he was a lucky bastard - but he told him that several times a week in any case, and Anders wasn't too sure he was certain who he was talking to when he did. Felsi and little Miranda were the only ones who could keep the dwarf sober.

As they were about to walk to Amaranthine (Anders could ride, but Neria was violently incompetent on horseback) Sigrun came down and hailed him.

"Just a heads up," she said. "It looks like the King and Queen will be visiting Orlais as well. Diplomatic mission to meet the new princess."

Anders rolled his eyes. "Oh. Brilliant."

"I suspect they also want to keep an eye on what's going on with the Council," Sigrun continued. "You might want to consult with them as well about what reforms you want to try and introduce. I know the Queen is behind mage reform... and the King.."

"He tried," Anders said. "He really did. But it's hard to keep track of what they do in there with the doors closed. I think Arl Eammon is the only one who still gets to visit his son."

Neria took his hand in hers. "Any idea when they'll be arriving?"

"A day or so after you. Miranda's not going to be traveling with the advantage of haste, but she will have royal carriages and horse changes."

"Well at least we'll have friends there," Neria said. Anders snorted. Neria nudged him in the ribs. "Come on, Anders. You saved the queen's life often enough. And the king's for that matter. He _likes _you. Or he would if you gave him a chance!"

"Not planning on giving him a chance," Anders said, grinning back at her. "But it will be nice to have someone around we know. This is going to be a big trip for both of us."

"My little wardens, all grown up," Sigrun said, mock wiping her eyes.

"Who are you calling little?" Anders quipped back. She cocked an eyebrow.

"I suspect Zevran's going to want to give you something before you leave, Anders," she said, looking behind her. The Antivan was making his way towards them holding something in his arms wrapped in a cloth. "I suggest you accept it gracefully and possibly gush a little. It's shiny!"

"For me? Why would Zevran be giving _me _anything?"

"Because, stupid, he's impressed with you. And your progress. And you don't have one yet, and when have you _ever _complained about being given gifts?"

Anders felt a little shamed at that. Miranda had showered him with presents during her time as Commander - truth be known she'd been big on giving everyone presents actually, but Anders had always been impressed at the quality of those she'd given to him. Since she'd left the wardens had established a kind of tradition of gift giving at Satanalia and on birthdays that was somewhat... extravagant. Sigrun had instigated it, reasoning that their lives were brutal and short and fine things were easy enough to come by and, more importantly, _fun. _As a consequence Anders had a very fine collection of earrings and Neria had several extravagant gowns. Wardens made a point of finding out what other wardens liked.

Anders wasn't sure if any gift of Zevran's that wasn't somehow to do with sex could possibly be something that he would like.

"My mage friends," the elf said when he reached them. "I have something for you. Well, something for _you_ Anders."

"I'm intrigued," Anders replied. "Although if it's anything like what you were talking to Oghren about last week..."

Zevran laughed his silvery laugh and shook his head. "No, my dear mage. No. This is something our queen gave to me during the Blight. I no longer have a use for it." He unwrapped the cloth to reveal an ornate sheath which housed a longsword. "I had our enchanter use some of the spells Timothy has been teaching you to add to its enchantment," Zevran continued. "It will not be handled by any other hands but yours now, and you will be able to focus your spells through it, I am told. It is called The Keening Blade."

Anders reached out a tentative hand and touched the hilt of the longsword. Of all the gifts he'd been given in his time, this one probably was the least expected, and one of the most thoughtful.

"Zevran, you didn't have to..."

"Nonsense. You will need it to protect your dear lady on the road," he winked, "or to protect others from her, once she takes her fearsome spider form."

He lifted his head and looked into the elf's warm eyes. "Thank you," he said. Sigrun slid her arm around Zevran's waist and the two of them gave him almost identical grins - slightly salacious. Really, he shouldn't have been surprised when the two of them hooked up.

"Go then," Sigrun said. "Captain Isabela keeps a tight ship. She _will _leave without you."

Anders gave into the impulse and hugged his dwarven Commander, a little awkwardly as the hug had to include a bit of Zevran as well.

"Oh, Anders," Zevran said. "You should have done that _earlier..." _

"We'll be back before you've gotten used to life without us," Anders said, breaking away and smiling. Neria tugged at his hand and they turned from the keep towards Amaranthine.


	22. Chapter 22

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Anders. Still wearing my earring I see," the captain of the Night Wing was a tall, bronzed, _incredibly attractive _woman who was staring at her lover with an expression that could only be described as predatory.

"Isabela," Anders said, matching her smile. The level of lewdness in his glance immediately set Neria at ease. They obviously _hadn't _slept together. Anders didn't try so hard with women he'd already bedded.

She suspected he was trying to make her jealous. But when the pirate captain turned her face on Neria she and she felt the full force of the woman's gaze, Neria suddenly felt a bit like Isabela was much more likely to make Anders jealous. Jealous, or incredibly interested. She'd never felt so... _appraised _by a woman before. Neria edged closer to Anders as Isabela turned to one of her crew members, barking orders for the two mages bags to be taken to their quarters.

"Anders," she hissed, tugging on his robe. "Anders she's _looking _at me."

"What?" he said looking down at her. "No she isn't. She's giving orders."

"But when she stops giving orders she _looks _at me..."

"Neria what on Thedas..." Isabela turned back to them and Anders looked up at her. Neria watched as his face took in the look Isabela was giving her and one of his eyebrows shot up and his lips pursed in an expression she wasn't entirely sure she liked.

"Well, my dears. Your cabin has been prepared. It's a two week journey to Val Royeaux, although your commander tells me you might be able to speed our way a little?" She cocked her head on one side. "Not that I want to be deprived of your company so _quickly..."_

"We can manipulate the wind for you," Neria said quickly, her hand still clutching at Anders' elbow. "Steady winds for as long as you want them." _And it will likely take all of my concentration. All the time._

"Why thank you, my dear," she said, smiling at her in a way that made her pulse trip along her veins. Honestly, if she didn't know better she would have said the woman was using a disorient spell on her. "However, my crew will need some time for rest and recuperation. Fifteen hours or so of steady wind will be all we need a day."

"You speak as though you've traveled with mages before," Anders said, and there was a wryness to his tone.

"But of course, Anders. There was a reason my name was put to you as a contact to get out of Ferelden."

"And that reason _wasn't _because you were handing apostates over to the Templars?" Neria said, the comment sounding slightly caustic to her ears.

Isabela laughed. "My dear girl," she said finally. "Apostate mages can offer me and my ship _far _more than a Templar ever could. No, I _didn't _give Anders away to the Templars on our last meeting. They were unfortunately too quick for us, and slightly more subtle than usual as well, weren't they Anders?"

"What can an apostate offer you that a Templar can't?" Neria said, curious despite herself.

"What you've already offered us. Fair winds. You landfolk have no idea how valuable a commodity that is. I've helped countless apostates flee Ferelden, or Antiva, or Orlais for that matter in exchange for a few weeks service aboard my ship. It keeps them on the move and away from harm, as well as giving me a much needed boost to my shipping times."

"Practical," Anders said.

"Indeed," Isabela said. "If it weren't for the chantry, every ship in Thedas would have a mage on it. From what I've heard, the chantry ships already do." Her face lost its predatory gleam for a moment and a darker expression settled there. "The chantry takes too many freedoms away from us."

Neria thought this would be a very good opportunity to retire to their cabin and tugged on Anders' robe. "Well, thank you any way, Captain," she said. "Anders and I should.. ah... get ready.. um prepared to cast your wind spells..."

"Certainly, my dear," Isabela said, her expression clearing and her eyes focusing on Neria again. "If you need anything, anything at all, please don't hesitate to call on me in my cabin. It's quite big enough for three."

Neria had to clamp her jaw shut for fear of it dropping open and started backing towards the cabin they had been assigned, augmenting her physical strength with an arcane warrior spell in order to drag Anders with her. Fortunately he was too distracted to try to counter it and came with her willingly enough, but he struggled a bit when she pushed him into the cabin against the wall and fixed him with an angry glare.

"What?" he said. "What?"

"I can _hear _you thinking lewd thoughts."

"Is it a crime to think lewd thoughts...?"

"It is when they involve _other women."_

Anders took her wrists in his hands and pulled her close to him. "They involve _you _and _only you, _Neria," he said. "Can you blame me? When Isabela looks at you like that all I want is to rip off your robes and ravish you."

"Huh, I'll bet. You want _Isabela _to. That's what _you _want..."

He sighed, but there was mirth in his eyes as well. "Why is it that every woman in the world thinks all men want to do is watch women make love to each other?"

"Because that's all men want to do?"

"It's not _all _we want to do," he said, leaning down to nibble at her neck, making her gasp. "I will admit that the thought has crossed my mind on occasion," he continued, moving up her neck to her ear. "But truly, I think most women who want to make love to _each other_ would just think I was in the way should I ask to participate."

"Isabela obviously wouldn't."

"Are you offering to make love to Isabela so I can watch?" he asked.

"No!"

"So surely this discussion is moot?" he said, pulling back and fixing her with shining eyes. His expression was serious, but the amusement bubbling underneath was as palpable as his very definite aura of power.

"But..."

His lips quirked in a grin. "Do you find Zevran physically attractive?" he asked her.

"What's that got to do with anything?"

Anders sighed and practically lifted her onto the tiny bunk that would be their sleeping place for the journey. The gentle rocking of the ship was strangely soothing - as were the creaks and groans of rope and wood that made up the ambient noise of ship life. But she couldn't let go of a kind of creeping panic that was gripping her centre whenever she thought about the captain of the ship. And Anders. And the way she oozed sexuality.

"If Zevran ever got around to sexually propositioning _me _would you expect me to go along with it to satisfy your desire to see two _men _make love?" he asked.

"No, of course not. I mean... you'd have to _want _to do it..." she trailed off. He was smirking at her. "You can't tell me you _wouldn't _like it, though."

"With Zevran? Probably..."

"No. With Isabela."

He spread his hands. "I have a pulse. I'm a man. Of course _if you wanted to _I would be absolutely insane to say no. But there's the catch. _You would have to want to. _You not wanting to completely defeats the whole purpose of the exercise." He took one of her hands in his - the skin on his fingers warm and smooth - and stroked her palm with his other hand, letting some rejuvenation magic spark into tired muscles. The tingles spread up her forearm and into her shoulders which automatically dropped - she hadn't realised she was so tense.

She thought she might be able to heat the ship with the force of her blush as she thought about what she was going to ask him. The Tower was far less inhibited than the rest of Ferelden when it came to sex, but really it could only be one kind of sex. Anders had... had a lot more of it outside the Tower and she felt the gap in their experience more than she had admitted to him. "I don't know, Anders. You..." she took a deep breath and looked up into his eyes, still twinkling with amusement and deeper desires that she knew she had never fully explored. "Have you ever... done that sort of thing before?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What, you mean with more than one..." She nodded. He shrugged. "Once or twice," he said. The matter-of-fact tone made her wince. "Hey, it's no big deal," he continued. "To be honest, there were too many limbs involved."

She couldn't help the snort that escaped her. "Limbs?" she said.

He grinned and nodded. "They get tangled up. Very annoying. Distracting. And occasionally painful." He pulled her into his lap and resumed kissing her neck. "I _much _prefer being able to give my undivided attention to one person."

She let her head fall back to give him better access to her throat, letting the rasp of his tongue send shivers to places she hadn't known about until she'd met him.

"Only and ever one? she whispered.

There was a pause and he pulled back to look into her eyes. "Only and ever _you_," he replied, softly.

She smiled. "That will have to do," she said.


	23. Chapter 23

Val Royeaux was imposing and opulent and pretty much everything he'd expected. They alighted the Night Wing on the cusp of the evening tide, just as the lights of the city were activating. Anders had heard that much of the lighting in the city was magical, but it was something else to see mages in official robes silently making their way through the streets letting forth small bursts of power here and there. There were so many of them, was his first thought._ Let out at night to do a duty like sheep, _was his second. The mages themselves didn't look any different to those he'd met in the tower, but he wondered what other skills they had that might be useful somewhere other than the Royal City.

They were met as they came off the ship by a young man in standard warden leather - obviously a junior warden from the Orlesians. He wordlessly took their bags, despite Anders greeting him cheerily in his own language, and led them back through the city towards the warden compound.

"It figures," Anders said, as they stood outside the gates waiting for the young man to gain them admittance. Despite the opulence of the surrounding city, the warden compound was almost painfully austere, stark and defensive. The rampant griffons over the gate were the only hint that the building was something other than a prison.

Inside was a little better. "I'm to show you your quarters," the young warden said in heavily accented Ferelden. "The Commander has asked that you come to his study as soon as you're settled. Ring for a servant to show you where that is."

Anders glanced at Neria, who rolled her eyes. Their rooms were next to each other - of course no one had bothered to mention that Anders and Neria were a couple - and perfectly comfortable, though small. Anders got the impression they were standard warden quarters for the Orlesians and he was satisfied that they'd at least be comfortable for the duration of their stay, although he might see if he could convince Neria to stay at least _one _night in that inn they'd passed - the one that looked a lot like the royal palace in Denerim...

Once they were settled and Pounce had found a corner to curl up in that was sufficiently _not _rocking with the motion of the sea (he had _hated _the ship crossing - Anders had almost been frantic by the end of it) Anders went to Neria's room and they called for a servant to take them to see the Warden Commander.

They found him in an office that reminded Anders of Sigrun's back at the Vigil. The walls were decorated with weapons - mostly darkspawn make, Anders was slightly chilled to note - and two tapestries, one of which depicted the elven warden Garahel slaying the archdemon, the second, newer tapestry depicting Miranda doing the same. Tapestries are never particularly good at getting faces right, but whoever had made this one had done a passing fair job of getting her expression of determined bloodlust right. Anders wondered if they'd ever met her.

The Warden Commander of Orlais, Gerod Caron, was a surprisingly cheerful faced man in his thirties. His bright red hair was clipped short and his clear blue eyes were crinkled at the edges with laughter. He grinned broadly as they entered and stood up from his desk to greet them, grasping Anders' shoulders in his hands and planting a kiss on each of his cheeks before doing the same to Neria. "Ah, our Ferelden siblings!" he said, and his voice was deep and booming with only a slight hint of an Orlesian accent. "It is truly good to see you've arrived safely."

"It's good to be here," Anders said. "Thank you for agreeing to house us."

"Oh, it's no trouble, no trouble at all. If things go the way we want at this council all the wardens in Thedas will benefit, it is truly the least we can do."

"Although having the council _here _of all places isn't going to make it easy," came a rich female voice. Anders blinked - he hadn't even noticed the elven woman sitting in a chair near the Warden Commander's desk. She was small - almost as small as Neria, and dark haired. Also in middle age - probably her forties - almost certainly close to her calling.

"Oh, excuse me," Gerod said. "May I introduce the senior mage warden from Weisshaupt?"

The woman stood. She was dressed in a mail shirt and a knee length skirt - unusual attire for anyone. Obviously she was a mage used to fighting at close quarters - a mail shirt was better protection against casual blades than mage robes even without the arcane warrior spells he and Neria had been learning, but he was surprised she was willing to do without the extra enchantments robes often carried.

"Anders, Neria," she said. "It's good to meet you. I'm Fiona."

Anders blinked. "You got here fast," he said.

She smiled, a small, bitter twist of the lips. "I was already here when the council was called," she said. "I seem to be spending a lot of time in Orlais these days."

"You don't sound too happy about that," Neria said.

"Let's just say I don't have too many happy memories about this city," the older elf said. "In any case, I've been here for a few months now, helping Gerod with mage recruits. When the council was called I sent another mage back to Weisshaupt for my second, Tilda, but it'll be touch and go for her to get here in time, even hasted. It's a long, long way back to the Anderfels. Especially at this time of year."

"We were worried about that. But the rest of the warden mages should make it, yes?"

"We're expecting the delegation from Antiva tomorrow," Gerod said, leaning against his desk. "The Nevarrans are here already - as are the wardens from the Free Marches. We haven't heard anything from Rivain, but we're assuming they're on their way. Tevinter, Par Vollen and Scheron... we're not so sure they'll get the message and even if they come by ship... well it's not certain. If the council let them take part after it's started we might be in luck. In any case, with you, Fiona, the Antivans and the Nevarrans we're already stacking some serious numbers in the council. There are enough Libertarians for you to tip the balance, I do believe."

Anders laughed. "You sound more excited about this than we are," he said. Gerod grinned and nodded.

"Of course I am. If this goes through we could be swimming in warden mages before the end of the year. The darkspawn would never have a chance. We could start taking the fight to them - helping the dwarves in Orzammar - join forces with the legion. The darkspawn can't find an archdemon if they're all _dead _now, can they?"

"There are limits to our power you know, Gerod," Fiona said, somewhat fondly.

"True, but I can't tell you the number of times just one extra mage would have tipped the balance in our favour against the spawn."

Anders suddenly remembered the missives from Sigrun and dug into his robes for them, handing them to Gerod as Neria turned to Fiona.

"What do you think we should do? As far as the Tower is concerned?" she said. "We'll need to present a united front and some sort of plan for the Tower."

"The Libertarians have been in contact," Fiona said. "They have a plan to put forward to the council. It's... not as radical as we would like, but it's a start."

"Do you know how the council is structured?" Anders asked. Neria looked at him with her eyebrow raised. "Hey - I never stuck around for those lessons!" he said.

"There are a few other issues that need discussion," Fiona said. "Several branches of magic that are still under debate as to whether their apostasy or not."

"They're not still harping on about battlemage specialisations are they?" Neria said, sighing.

Fiona cocked an eyebrow. "The Templars don't like it," she said. "They think it makes it too easy for apostates to avoid them."

"Any decent Templar should be smiting first and asking questions later," Anders said bitterly.

"You're both battlemages, no?" Fiona said. They nodded.

"It's a good thing the circle and the chantry think we're virtually apostates," he said. "Although with our present course of study apostasy is probably a little short of the mark. I think what Neria can do would tip the balance over into malificarum."

Fiona cocked an eyebrow. "We recently recruited an apostate who spent time with the Dalish," Neria explained. "She's been teaching me shape shifting."

The older mage's face lit up and Gerod actually clapped his hands in delight. "That's magnificent!" the Orlesian commander said. "We'll have to get you to teach the spells to our mages here. Shapeshifting is one of those specialisations we've always wanted to get our hands on."

"We also managed to get a hold of another specialisation that's a bit more... esoteric," Anders said. "Have either of you heard of Arcane Warriors?"

Fiona lifted her other eyebrow to join the first. "I have," she said softly. "I thought that talent was completely lost after the Exalted March..."

"I think you'd like the spells," Anders said, eyeing her mail shirt. "How would you like to halve the fatigue you get from that thing?"

A slow smile spread over the elven woman's face and Anders figured they'd be spending a lot of their spare time passing on knowledge while they were here. "In any case," Fiona said, "The council's inner workings aren't exactly well known to me, but I understand issues are raised, then discussed, then voted on. There are several issues raised at each council, but seeing as the Libertarians called this one, I wouldn't be surprised if they try to get theirs voted on first."

Anders nodded. "Sounds fairly straightforward."

"Now," Gerod said, "Your King and Queen are arriving here tomorrow. I've extended an invitation to dinner for them the day after - seeing as they're both wardens. I understand you've worked with both of them, Anders? Is there anything I should know about their habits... preferences... ?"

"Stock the table with cheese, Commander," Anders said, smiling a little. "You'll have a friend for life in Alistair."

"He... they were both recruited by Duncan, weren't they?" Fiona asked softly. "I knew him. He was a good man."

"Miranda said he was originally from Orlais," Anders said. "Did you serve with him?"

She nodded, her eyes clouded. "We went on a mission together," she said. "His first, actually. We kept in contact after. He... helped me considerably just before I was posted to Weisshaupt."

"I've heard nothing but good things about him," Anders said. "We lost too much at Ostagar."

Gerod nodded. "If only that idiot Loghain had let us come to your assistance," he said. "You might not have lost at all."

Anders shrugged. If they hadn't lost at Ostagar, Miranda Cousland would probably not have been made Warden Commander. Amaranthine may never have been granted to the wardens. He might never have been recruited. He shuddered to think of what might have happened if he'd had to fight his way out of the Vigil without the Commander and Oghren and Mhairi to help him. _One thing leads to another, and another, _he thought. Without Commander Cousland, the Tower might have fallen to Uldred's rebellion. He looked at Neria and felt a sudden rush of fear and affection.

"In any case," Gerod said, "You'll dine with us this evening. I've invited the head of the Libertarians here under the guise of discussing warden recruits - he's from Antiva as well, quite a lively fellow. I imagine you will have a lot to talk about with him. We eat in the main hall in about an hour. In the meantime, perhaps you'd like to discuss some of your new skills with Fiona? We have a mage training hall - you might want to go there, especially if you think you might want to demonstrate anything!"

Anders gave Neria a look. She'd only completed her transformation once since mastering the spider form, and he knew she was itching to show it off some more. "That sounds like fun," he said, grinning.

Fiona's stern face didn't soften. "Fun is not what this is about," she said. Anders rolled his eyes. One of _those _mages. Still, it wouldn't stop them from enjoying themselves before the serious business began. He wondered what her story was. There was a deep melancholy about her that in a younger woman Anders would find irresistible. It didn't help that she reminded him of an older version of Neria. His heart ached when he thought of Neria getting to that age - so close, so very, very close to the Calling..

Of course, he'd be that close as well. Chances were he'd have to go first. His mind shied away from that and he took the opportunity to give a short bow to Gerod, who laughed. "Come now, Anders, you know we're an order of equals."

He grinned. "But some are always more equal than others," he said. He turned to the others. "Shall we?"


	24. Chapter 24

_So, all this build up to the Mages Council and I TOTALLY didn't check Wiki before I decided it should be in Orlais and now I'm KICKING myself because it's meant to be in Cumberland. So for everyone's information, after the last mages council in Cumberland there was a freak earthquake that destroyed the mages college and now it's in Orlais. What? Stop looking at me like that!_

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The mage training hall made Anders a bit sheepish. At the Vigil he'd waved mage recruits outside into the training fields with the other recruits. There had been several... accidents - one of which had caused Mistress Woolsey to almost have apoplexy when she calculated the cost to repair it. Anders had never been popular with her.

The Orlesian compound had a specially spelled room in which to train its mages. Anders felt the enchantments as they entered - like the library at the Circle Tower, and, he suspected, the Tower itself - the room contained and dampened magic to a point where anyone outside it would be perfectly safe from the odd misfired spell. Neria nudged him in the ribs. "Looks like we'll be busy when we get back to the Vigil, eh?" she said.

"Why didn't we think of this?" he said mournfully.

"Too busy being awesomely powerful," Neria said. He grinned at her. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Fiona rolling hers. She was _definitely _one of those types of mages.

"So," Fiona said. "Which do you want to show me first? The Arcane Warrior or the Shapeshifter?"

Neria flashed Anders a look that had him briefly wishing they could be alone before turning to Fiona.

"The spells for shapeshifting are relatively easy," she said. "The thing that takes time is learning the form of the creature you want to become."

Fiona nodded. "Makes sense," she said. "So you've mastered some forms I take it?"

"Only two so far," Neria replied. "You might recognise this one.." she lifted her staff and concentrated and Anders saw the familiar haze of power surround her before Pounce stood in her place.

The older mage's face dissolved into amazement. "Incredible!" she said, stepping forward and kneeling in front of Neria, who licked a paw and flicked her tail. "And extremely useful I'd suggest."

"Possibly not as useful as her other form, though," Anders said. As he spoke Neria shimmered back into her elven form, grinning.

"And your other form is?"

"A little more complex," Neria said, and raised her hands.

"I suggest you step back a little," Anders warned Fiona. The older mage did so and continued to watch curiously as Neria's power gathered. It was obvious to all of them that this transformation was more difficult - Neria needed more practice if it was ever going to be useful in battle. While the transformation to Pounce took only a few seconds, it was half a minute before Neria's form shimmered and changed again.

Anders had his eyes locked on Fiona's face, wanting to catch her reaction, and was not disappointed. The stern features shuddered in automatic fear before relaxing into admiration and awe. "Maker's breath," she breathed as she drank in the form of the enormous queen spider now squatting obscenely in the centre of the room. "That's terrifying!"

Anders turned and was forced to agree. Even though he'd seen Neria in spider form before, it had always been outdoors. Seeing the massive beast confined inside a human structure was deeply _wrong_. This creature did _not _belong here. Neria didn't help by rearing up and exposing her fangs - even Anders took a few steps back and Fiona's gasp was full of terror.

The spider shimmered and returned to the diminutive form of his lover, grinning. She gave Anders a questioning look. "A little faster," he said. "Still needs work though."

She pursed her lips and nodded. "Well, I can only keep practicing."

Anders turned back to Fiona who was looking remarkably pale. Although she had regained her stern expression, Anders got the sense that the spider had bothered her.

"Not afraid of spiders are you?" Anders asked. "There are a couple of wardens at the Vigil who won't stay in the same room with Neria any more."

Fiona gave the ghost of a grin. "No, I'm not," she said. "I was just.. reminded of something." Anders was even more curious about the older elf, but she shook herself and the smile relaxed into something more natural. "That was... extremely educational - but I get the impression it takes a big investment of time, no?"

Neria nodded. "I studied Pounce for three weeks, solidly. Bess took me a month."

"Bess?"

Neria blushed. "Um.. yes. The spider mine is modeled on.. I - we named her Bess."

"You _named _her?"

Anders grinned. "Neria wanted to bring her with us," he said.

Fiona widened her eyes. "Well, I for one am glad that she didn't," she said. "What about these warrior spells?"

"That's Anders' specialty," Neria said.

Anders nodded and went over the spells with Fiona. It was interesting to interact with a senior mage as a teacher - she was remarkably quick on the uptake and managed to cast Combat Magic on her first try - something no one else had managed to do. The expression on her face when she felt the effects indicated she liked the results.

"You know, I've been so _used _to the weight of this thing over the years that it feels odd when I'm not wearing it," Fiona said as she flexed her shoulders. "This is incredible. I'll be three times as fast."

"It does drain your mana a bit," Anders said. "Our armourer is experimenting with putting willpower-boosting runes in all the armour for mages to offset that though. And if you're already used to the mail you wouldn't have to use the spell constantly - maybe only when you're going into battle?"

Fiona nodded. "Should keep me fighting for a few more years yet," she said, grinning. Anders blinked. He wondered if she was less close to her Calling than he'd thought. It was difficult to tell how old elves were.

"Is battle that frequent, at Weisshaupt?" Neria asked.

Fiona looked troubled. "Yes," she said. "The darkspawn are much bolder in the Anderfels than they are here. It's because the population is so much thinner I suppose. And the common people rely on us more. There are no banns or arls or even chevaliers to look after their townsfolk - either the Wardens have to do it, or they have to do it themselves. Not that they're above that - but if they're under attack by darkspawn there's always the risk of becoming tainted."

"It sounds like a harsh place," Anders said.

She nodded. "It is. Far harsher than here. At least on the surface. But it has its appeal - the people are fierce and loyal. The landscape.. " she looked suddenly wistful. "It's spectacular. You can lose yourself in it - in more ways than one."

There was a polite cough from the entrance and they turned to see a servant waiting politely. "If you'll excuse the interruption, wardens, dinner is served."

Dinner was suitably warden-ish - good food and lots of it. The libertarian mage - Ezio - was a florid, red faced man with wild wispy hair and a tendency to wave his arms around when he talked. Anders hoped they had someone other than him who could do the talking once the council was in session - the man didn't exactly inspire confidence.

But once he got onto the subject of what he wanted for the circle he was surprisingly eloquent.

"Decentralisation is the key," he said, once they'd finished their main course and were waiting for dessert. "And we have to sell it to the other mages. The way we do that is by offering them _power."_

Neria leaned forward. "Power?" she said.

Ezio nodded. "Indeed, my dear, yes, yes. Power for these mages is like food crumbs - no? They cannot use their own powers, they are leashed to their Towers. Only one mage can become First Enchanter - only one Templar can be Knight Commander - and we mages - pampered and sheltered - we live very long lives. Power changes hands so very gradually. With these... _poco _... little Towers the mages get powers - yes? They get control over others. _This _is what will make the other mages agree to what we want."

"Do we even need the other mages?" Anders asked. "Gerod seemed to think we had enough numbers with the wardens and the libertarians together."

Ezio shrugged. "It will not matter unless we can convince the Templars too. And the Templars would like power of their own just as much as our mages."

"I thought they'd had that desire burned out of them," Anders said bitterly. "All the Templars I know follow like sheep."

Ezio chuckled. "Ah, my apostate friend - the Chantry sometimes accidentally lets an initiate with brains take their vows. Every institution has those who wish for power, even," his eyes twinkled as he looked at Gerod, "the legendary Wardens."

Gerod laughed and threw up his hands. "Do not you accuse _me _of wishing for more power," he said. "Weisshaupt is a long, long way away from the lights of Val Royeaux my friend."

"Indeed," Ezio said.

_It's all about power, is it? _Anders thought. _Surprisingly not surprising, that. _He caught Neria's eye, who was grinning.

_Now we just have to see if we can get some of our own._


	25. Chapter 25

_Thanks to Surelyforth for Anders' phrasing at the end of this chapter. Although her language was slightly stronger than mine! Also thanks to Amhran Comrac and the twitter ladies jenncgf, ladyamesindy and riathepinkie for helping me work out some of the motivations here- I love you guys!_

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Neria made her way down to the kitchens. Gerod had thoughtfully shown them how to get there - it was obvious that the Orlesian Wardens were just as familiar with the need for midnight snacks as they were at the Vigil. Truly it just was not possible to eat enough at dinner to get one through eight hours of sleep - so nearly every warden tended to have a "fill up" supper just before they went to bed. At the Vigil it was like a second dinner - most wardens made it into a sit down meal, slightly less formal than dinner, but catered for almost as lavishly.

The Orlesian wardens tended to simply help themselves to food and take it back to their rooms, Neria discovered, as she reached the kitchen to find a line up of wardens being handed packages or baskets to take with them rather than a large table set for many. The chef grinned at her as she collected her own basket - enough for her _and _Anders - and she grabbed what looked like a meat pasty out of the basket to munch on her way back to her room.

_Their _room. Anders had left his things in his, but they would be sharing her bunk - well used by now to being squished in a small space together. Delightfully so, in fact.

She must have taken a wrong turn on the way back up to the rooms, however, and she stumbled into what looked like a library. Fascinated, she set her basket down on a nearby table and made her way inside.

The Vigil's library was much, much more limited. She ran her hand along the spines of a row of books, drinking in a smell she hadn't really experienced since she'd left the Tower. She had, once upon a time, loved the Circle Library. She'd spent the happiest hours of her childhood there - with Jowan, mostly, although there had been a few notable occasions with Tobias in darkened corners as well.

In the final years, however, she'd avoided the place. Too many other apprentices. Looking at them, knowing what might be in store for them at their Harrowing, realising how few were left after Uldred's rebellion - had become too much for her. If she needed a book she sent an apprentice to get it for her.

This library was different, but the same, so she felt she could indulge in her happier memories without triggering her more traumatic ones. At least, she thought she could, until she heard the unmistakable sound of sobbing coming from a corner.

Curious, she searched for a time until she found the source of the sound - neatly hidden at a desk between two rows of shelves.

Fiona.

Neria knew she had made no sound on approach and she was grateful. Something told her that the older mage would _not _thank anyone for interrupting what was obviously private grief. Neria wondered why she was here, rather than in her rooms, for something so personal. Then she wondered if Fiona was even aware that she was crying. The elf had her head bent over a book, and she was doing nothing to stem the flow of tears from her eyes.

Neria turned to leave, but she must have made some noise, giving her position away, because Fiona's voice broke through. "Neria?"

She turned back, somewhat reluctantly. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean.."

"Don't worry," Fiona replied. The tears were still flowing, but the elf's voice was remarkably steady. "I should have gone to my room. Stupid of me."

"I..."

"What are you doing here?"

She shrugged. "I went to get us a snack," she said.

Fiona cocked an eyebrow. "Us?"

"Anders and..."

"Oh, you and he are...?"

Neria bristled. "I don't see how that's any of your business..."

Fiona chuckled. "I don't blame you," she said looking away. "Big, blonde shems have their appeal, I have to admit."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Neria felt desperate to leave, but something about the elf's mood kept her stock still. "Was it the book?" she asked finally.

"Hmm?"

"Did the book make you cry?"

The bark of laughter that came from the older mage was shocking. "Actually, yes, it was the book," she said, spinning the tome around. Neria read the title from where she was standing. _The Kings of Ferelden._

"Huh," she said. "So driven to tears of boredom were you?" Fiona's chuckle sounded a bit more natural this time. Neria smiled back at her. "Well," Neria said. "If you're feeling better I might get this food back to Anders..." She hesitated as a look of need passed over Fiona's face.

"Sit," she said finally. "If you would. I.. find I need some advice, and the people I would usually turn to are not here. You're a mage - and an elf... and.. well let's just say there are enough similarities between us that I think you may be able to help me."

Neria found herself sitting without thinking. The woman, she finally realised, reminded her of her mother. Although her mother had not been half so composed or a tenth as dangerous. Perhaps she had simply not been around older elven women for too long. In any case, being asked by a warden of Fiona's experience and power for advice was novel enough that she wanted to find out what was bothering her.

Fiona laid her hands on the table between them. Neria noted that they were long fingered and delicate - but calloused. People joked about mages never having to do work. It wasn't the case with mage wardens.

"I made a... well, if I call it a mistake it will sound like I could have done differently..." she frowned and took deep breath. "Something happened to me, nearly thirty years ago. Just after I became a warden - I was sent to Ferelden with Duncan and some other wardens. I ended up.. traveling with King Maric."

"King Maric?" Neria said. Old lessons flitted through her head - back when she'd been interested in those sorts of things - back when she paid attention. "Wait - didn't he go on a mission to the deep roads? Just before the wardens were allowed back into Ferelden?"

Fiona nodded. "Yes. I was with him on that mission. So was Duncan. We.. ah.. we became very close."

Neria raised an eyebrow. After Queen Rowan had died, Maric had been reputed to be something of a womaniser, and the gossip pegged him as preferring elven women. "Close as in...?"

Fiona nodded. "Yes. Close as in that. And as a result, I had a child."

"You had one of Maric's bastards?" Neria blurted. It seemed incredible. This woman was the last person Neria would think could possibly end up in such a situation. She was too composed - too hard.

Maybe she hadn't always been that way.

Fiona was looking at her, and her expression was unreadable. "Maric was a good man," she said. "Much like your Anders, in many respects. He was decent, and kind, and..."

"Big and blonde?" Neria finished.

A grin touched Fiona's lips. "Yes. Big and blonde. And in any case, we were thrown together in extreme circumstances. When we... when the relationship reached that level neither of us thought we would be getting out of the Deep Roads alive. Pregnancy certainly wasn't something we were worrying about." Fiona looked down at her hands. "In any case, I had the child, and I brought him back to Ferelden to give to his father. I.. you know that the wardens don't encourage families, and had the Chantry discovered I had a child they would have tried to take it as well. I didn't want that for my son. I wanted him to grow up without the... burden of being a halfblood. Maric arranged to have him raised where he wouldn't know about his heritage."

"Wait," Neria said. "Does King Alistair know about this? Another heir to the throne would make the nobles breathe a lot easier. From what I understand Queen Miranda isn't likely to..." she trailed off. Fiona was looking at her. With disturbingly hazel eyes that were exactly the same shape as... "Oh. Oh! But I thought Alistair's mother was..."

"Maric kept it quiet who his mother was," she said. "I suppose he always knew there was a possibility Cailan would be his only child. And there was no way he was going to marry again. If Alistair needed to take the throne the fact that his mother was a mage, and a warden, and an elf _and _an Orlesian..."

"Wow. It's like someone gave Maric a list of things not to look for in a lover," Neria said. Then she saw Fiona's expression. "Sorry - Anders rubs off on you after a while. So... you never told him?"

"I asked Duncan to watch over him for me," she said. "But no, I never told him. Never saw him. And now... Now I'm expected to sit across a table from him tomorrow night and make conversation. I know he's going to ask me about Duncan. I know he's probably even going to ask me about his father - all the wardens know I went on that mission with him. What do I say to him? He has a son now - I have a _grandson. _I... "

"You should tell him," Neria said. "You should tell him who you are."

"He'll be deposed if it ever gets out," Fiona said. "I don't have the right to tell him."

Neria was suddenly angry. "He won't be any less of a good king just because of who his mother was," she said forcefully. "And why should he tell anyone? The whole of Ferelden thinks his mother was a serving lass. I know _some of us _would rather he was the son of someone significant."

"Some of you wouldn't include the nobles," Fiona said, and her tone was back to being harsh. "And they're the ones who keep him in power. No," she shook her head and stood up. "Thank you for listening to me, I think I needed to tell... _someone. _Even if it could never be him."

"Fiona..."

"You should get back to your young man," the older mage said. "He's probably hungry." She started to leave, but Neria caught her arm.

"Don't you think _Alistair _deserves to know?" she asked softly.

Fiona's eyes were hazed over with pain. "Of course he does," she said. "But it will only do him harm. I've already done him enough of that."

Neria watched the woman leave - her shoulders slumped in what looked like defeat. Her mind was buzzing. Parents - they really were the cause of all our troubles.

When she got back to her room Anders was playing with Pounce on the floor. He looked up as she entered. "Where've you been?" he asked.

"I got lost on the way back. Ran into Fiona in the library," she said.

"Oh? And what did our fierce little Orlesian elf have to say for herself?"

"Funny story, actually," Neria replied sitting down on the floor next to him and handing him a pasty. "Seems she's King Alistair's mother."

Anders spluttered. "What?"

"Remember that mission King Maric went on to the deep roads? You know - the one just before the Wardens were allowed back into Ferelden?"

He blinked. "Uh, no?"

She sighed, exasperated. "Did you go to any lessons at all in the tower?" He grinned. "Short version - Fiona went to the deep roads with King Maric and Duncan of all people. Ended up sleeping with him. Result - Alistair."

"So why does the spikey haired ponce think his mother was a serving girl?"

"Hello, Anders. Fiona's an elf. And a mage. And an _Orlesian._ She says she wanted him to grow up without those stigmas attached to him."

"Huh. Might have made him better company."

Neria rolled her eyes. "Don't tell him, ok?" she said. "Fiona said she doesn't want him to know."

"Oh, Maker, Neria, you know you've just cursed me to let it slip in the most embarrassing way possible," Anders said, laughing. "We'll be sitting at dinner tomorrow night and the words "Did you know Fiona boofed King What's-his-stuff and you're the result?" will just _fall out of my mouth. _I won't be held responsible for the consequences."

"Anders, you gossip worse than Oghren."

"I'm hurt."

"In any case, _don't. _I don't want you to tell him. Fiona made it quite clear that she doesn't want him to know."

"I shall endeavor not to let my tongue take control of my brain then. Why did you tell me though, if you thought I was such a gossip?

"I was thinking you could tell Miranda instead," she said, smiling slightly.


	26. Chapter 26

It was all very well, Neria delegating the task of letting the King of Ferelden know he had a surviving parent, but truly, how did one get to talk to the queen any way? The day was being eaten away by the Orlesian mage wardens. He and Neria had finally set up an impromptu lesson in the training room, and were, assisted ably by Fiona, teaching the ten or so Orlesian mages the basic spells for both shape shifters and arcane warriors. He knew Neria was worried about the potential shape shifters - since they wouldn't be staying in Orlais to supervise there was a potential for nasty accidents, but she hoped that the senior Orlesian mage warden, Phillippe, would be able to temper the younger warden's enthusiasm.

"Truly," she had said to him, "trying to transform before you know the form adequately can kill you. You've got to make sure they know what they're doing..."

Anders had smiled to himself. Neria would never forgive herself if one of the Orlesians got hurt because of spells she had taught them.

It turned out that he didn't _need _to arrange to get the Queen alone. An hour before dusk an elven servant came to the training room and pulled Anders aside.

"The royal carriage has arrived," she said softly. "Bringing only the Queen. She's asked to see you. Privately."

Anders cocked his eyebrow. Why would _she _want to see _him _privately? A million things ran through his head, some of them quite filthy, although they were quashed by his conscious mind extremely quickly. _That _boat had sailed. And sunk. Possibly whilst on fire.

He nodded to the servant and found Neria. "Apparently our Royal Commander wishes to see _me," _he said to her. Neria's eyes flashed and he felt even more guilty for those few filthy thoughts.

_"Does _she," she said. "Well. I'd insist on coming with you, but that would probably mess up your strategic reveal."

"It's sweet that you think I need a chaperone."

"If I find out she's pursuing you I'll death hex her."

"Hey, that's hardly likely. She's got that big strapping Templar to amuse her, remember?"

"It's not my fault she's got defective taste."

"You know I love you, right?"

She grinned up at him and he felt a warm jolt on his belly. "Death hex," she murmured as he bent to kiss her ear.

He was still smiling when he reached Gerod's office.

He always got a shock seeing the queen these days. In his head she was the Commander - hard edges, leather armour and sharp weapons. Beautiful and dangerous.

These days she dressed in court clothes and more often than not had a toddler clinging to her skirts. Her hair was long and elaborately coiled at the back of her head rather than sheared across her jawline and braided to keep it out of her eyes, he was slightly taken aback to see there were strands of grey in the dark waves now.

The posture was the same, ramrod straight, ready to command, but the grey eyes were more tired and at the same time softer than they had been.

"Anders," she said, smiling. Duncan wasn't with her today - Anders wondered if they'd left him in Ferelden.

"You wanted to see me, Commander?"

"Sigrun might be upset to know you're still giving me her title," she said.

He flopped into a chair, hooking a leg over one of the arms. "No, Sigrun _adores _me. She lets me do whatever I want."

Miranda gave a half grin. "I hear rumours," she said. "Is it true that she and Zev...?" Anders raised his eyebrows and grinned. Miranda shook her head and tutted. "That man is completely incorrigible. I hope he's not going to break her heart and run off to Antiva."

"Our little legionnaire is tougher than you think," Anders said. "I honestly think if he tried it she'd hunt him down and eviscerate him. Or not care at all, which would hurt him much, _much _more."

Miranda laughed. "Oh, Zev would be devastated if he thought he wasn't good enough to provoke at least an evisceration. I should have remembered she grew up in dust town."

Anders waited. Something was bothering her. "Pleasantries over?" he said finally. "You wanted me for something."

Miranda cocked an eyebrow. "Still with the innuendos?"

"I have many more if you want, but we'd be wasting time," he said. "And there's a tiny elf in the mage training arena who's been threatening death hexes for that sort of thing. So what's the problem?"

She sighed and some of the tension seemed to go out of her. "I need you to make me infertile," she said.

Anders blinked. "What?"

"You heard me. I know it's possible. Rowan wrote to Alistair after we lost the second baby and he told her what you mages do... to ensure you don't conceive. I need you to..."

"But surely you want more children? One is all well and good, but Maric only had one legitimate heir and look where _that _got him.."

Miranda was shaking her head over and over. "No. No I don't want any more children, Anders. Or more precisely... I don't want to_ try_ to have any more. The taint is progressing in both of us - I very much doubt you and Rowan would be able to manage to save any child we did conceive the way you did Duncan. And I... I don't want to go through that again. I don't want to lose..." she took a deep breath. "Three was enough. I think about them every day, Anders. Who they might have been. I don't want to add to that number."

Anders bit his lip. He knew the spell she wanted him to perform - every spirit healer was taught it. Every spirit healer was expected to do it to themselves and any other mage who asked (although Anders had _not - _not until he was out of the Tower and a warden). The only reason the Templars didn't make it compulsory was because they didn't know about it. It was one of the only secrets the mages had managed to keep - and it was a dangerous one. If the Chantry knew that mages could effectively neuter themselves - well.

"It's not reversible, Commander," Anders said. "If I do this there's no going back. And truly, you should have Alistair do it as well - there have been cases.."

"No. Alistair mustn't. He needs to stay the way he is... in case..."

Anders felt his fists clench. "In case what? He decides to sire some bastards?"

Miranda's face went pained. "Anders, don't judge us. He's not like his father, or most noblemen. If something happens to Duncan.." her voice caught. "If something happens to Duncan we'll need options, that's all."

He didn't like nobility. Or royalty - save for his present company. Their obsession with bloodlines was ridiculous. It wasn't your parent's _blood _that made you the person you were. It might give the outline, but the picture needed to be filled in by other things. "Does Alistair know you're here?"

"Yes," she said.

"And he agrees with you?" She nodded. He could only imagine the fight they must have had about _that _one. Anders was sure Alistair had agreed, eventually. But he couldn't imagine the former Templar - Chantry raised that he was - would have liked the idea much.

Anders studied his former Commander as she stood. He hadn't been there, for all of the miscarriages. One had happened before he'd even met her. But each had left her damaged - some small part of her chipped away with disappointment and heartache. She didn't deserve to go through that again.

He sighed and stood up, magic flaring. It wasn't a pleasant spell to perform - using healing magic to harm rather than to heal always made him slightly queasy, but it was relatively simple and fast. Miranda went still and bit her lip while he slowly ran his hands over her abdomen, finding the right spot. He closed his eyes and concentrated a moment, letting the power lash sharply twice. Miranda felt nothing, but the deed was done.

He dropped his hands and stepped away from her. She swallowed and nodded. "Thank you," she said.

"Why didn't you ask Rowan to do it?" he said.

"He refused," she said. "For a moment there I was afraid you were going to as well."

He smiled sadly at her and shook his head. "I remember what it was like, when you were trying before," he said softly. "I wouldn't want you to go through that again."

She nodded sadly. They stood in awkward silence for a few moments before Anders remembered he had something to tell her. "I.. ah... speaking of children," he began. "A funny thing happened last night..."

"Anders don't tell me you're going to be a father!"

He rolled his eyes. "That little spell there? Very useful for people like me you know. No I'm not going to be a father. This is about Alistair's parents, actually."

Miranda sat. "Oh?"

He had debated how to do this, but in the end he knew Miranda would appreciate bluntness. She knew him too well for him to be circumspect, so he simply told her what Neria had told him. Miranda's eyes opened wide and she gripped the arms of her chair.

"An elven mage?" she said. "But we met his sister in Denerim..."

"Apparently that was set up as cover," Anders said, leaning on the desk. "Fiona didn't want Alistair to know he was elven at all - the serving girl was dead in childbirth along with the babe, the dates matched - it was perfect."

Miranda snorted. "Well, Alistair will be happy to know he's _not _related to that woman. But as for the other thing..."

"Fiona didn't want to tell him because she was worried it would cause political unrest."

Miranda got to her feet and started to pace. "It would," she said. "It has the potential to cause a lot of trouble, actually." She fixed him with a hard stare. "Why are you telling _me _this and not Alistair?"

Anders grinned and opened his arms. "Your husband loves me _so much," _he said. "Do you really think he'd like to hear this from me?"

"Neria could have told him. He likes _her._"

"Fiona told Neria _not _to tell him. So she, being the sneaky little minx she is, told me, knowing what a hopeless gossip I am, and I told you, because you're my former Commander and we have no secrets from each other. End of story."

"Except that now you've neatly handed me a problem, haven't you? I can tell Alistair that his mother is alive and well - which he will probably be ecstatic about - but that she also happens to be everything the Ferelden nobility hate - which will send him into a panic. Then I'll have to deal with the fallout - he'll want to come clean to the people of Ferelden because _that's who he is _and I'll have to convince him that's not a good idea."

"Isn't love wonderful?"

"I hate you right now Anders."

"I'm hurt."

She bit her fist in thought. Anders was just about to leave her to it when she spun to face him. "Bring her to me," she said, and her voice had the snap of command in it.

"What?"

"The mage, Fiona. Bring her here. I need to talk to _her _about this. And do it quickly, Alistair will be here in under an hour."

His feet were moving before his brain had registered her words.

_Habits of command_, he thought. Then: _this is going to be very, very interesting._


	27. Chapter 27

_I've just realised how often these chapters end with either Neria or Anders demanding sex from each other, and I rarely write the ensuing smut because it's not going to do anything for the plot. Rest assured, though, that they have GREAT SEX. Always. :)._

... _can you tell I've had a few glasses of wine?_

_Enjoy!_

_

* * *

_

"Well, you've opened a hornet's nest," Anders said to Neria when he got back to the hall. He scanned the mages, looking for Fiona. When he found her he waved to get her attention.

"Why? What did she say?"

"She wants me to bring Fiona to her. You're coming too, by the way. I'm not facing the wrath of these two on my own."

Neria felt a lance of guilt, but it was quashed when the older elf reached their side. "What?" she asked.

Neria looked at Anders, who was chewing the side of his cheek in nervousness. "Ah.. the Queen of Ferelden is here," he said. "And she'd... um.. like to talk to you."

Fiona's head whipped to Neria. The woman wasn't stupid, after all. Neria _knew _the sheepish grin that spread on her face made things worse, but she couldn't stop herself. "You told me not to tell _Alistair," _she said.

"I would have thought you would be intelligent enough to know that I meant _everyone," _Fiona snapped back.

Anders shifted from foot to foot. "Um.. hate to interrupt," he said. "But Queen. Incredibly scary. Powerful. And waiting for us."

Neria could feel Fiona repress the urge to zap Anders. "Fine," she said, and spun on her heel, stalking from the room. Anders glanced down at Neria, who shrugged.

"They won't kill each other," she said.

"No," he said wryly. "I get the feeling Fiona at least would rather kill _us_. Come on."

Neria had only spoken to the Queen of Ferelden a few times - always about things to do with being a warden. She admired the woman's obvious competence and quiet humour. But in the back of her mind whenever she saw her was _this is the woman Anders wanted. _She couldn't help looking at the gentle curve of her cheek and the generous swell of her breasts and hips and think of her own hard edges and smallness. Human women, like human men, were so much _more. _

She loved that, about Anders. She wondered if he missed it.

Fiona had got there before them, just, and they ended up following her into the room a little like scolded children. Miranda was waiting at the window, looking down into the courtyard of the keep with a pensive expression on her face, no doubt trying to work through the ramifications of the information she'd been handed. What she wanted to talk to Fiona for... well Neria wasn't sure what it could accomplish. Fiona had convinced herself that letting Alistair know his parentage was a mistake. She wasn't certain the mage could be swayed, once her opinion had been formed.

Then again, she didn't know the Queen very well.

"You're Fiona?" she said, when the woman entered. Fiona crossed her arms over her chest and nodded.

"And you're Miranda Cousland - hero of Ferelden."

"Miranda Theirin, now. Actually."

There was a slight pause and Fiona took a breath. "Indeed," she said.

The two women examined each other for a long moment. Anders nudged Neria and started to edge towards the door, but Miranda's finger shot out and pointed at them. "No. You two are staying right here. Once I'm through talking to Fiona I have _no doubt _she'll want a longer word with you."

She felt Anders hand grab hers and squeezed.

"What do you want me to do?" Miranda said then, turning back to the older mage.

"Don't tell him," Fiona said immediately.

"Why not?"

"The obvious reasons," Fiona replied. "Being the child of a serving girl is bad enough."

"Hundreds would agree with you. But I doubt Neria here would. And I _know _Alistair wouldn't. You'll have to do better than that."

Fiona let out an exasperated sound. "You really think that? Alistair was raised human. There are certain prejudices..."

".. against elves and mages that no one can help... blah blah blah.. I've heard all that from _him" _she pointed at Anders again "and every elf I've ever tried to befriend. Yes there are prejudices, but if you knew your son you'd know he's _the last person on Thedas _who would ever hold them. He was trained as a _Templar _but the worst complaint he had about a _malificar _we traveled with was that she was a bitch. Which she was. The magic was completely secondary."

"He's the King. If he knew he'd be obligated to let his subjects know and _they _wouldn't like it."

"He'll do what he's told. Eventually."

"Huh. So you're the real power behind the throne then? Did my son grow up a puppet to a human noble?"

Miranda's eyes flashed with anger, but her voice, when she answered, was calm. "Alistair is the finest man I've ever known," she said softly. "If he has a fault, it's a propensity to believe he doesn't deserve to be happy. The _arrangement _his father made for him after you left him pretty much guaranteed that, I'm afraid." Neria could see Fiona flinch. "Anders and Neria did the best possible thing, coming to me with your information, because I made an oath, the day we married, that I wouldn't let him get in the way of his own happiness any more."

"You think finding out that I'm his mother will make him _happy?" _Fiona's voice was bitter, but Neria could hear a catch in it. The woman desperately wanted to tell him who she was. She remembered the tears Fiona had shed, in the library.

Miranda must have heard it too, because her face softened. "You truly don't know him," she said. "I won't deny it will be _complicated. _When is anything ever simple? But it's the right thing to do. You were forced to give him up because of circumstances beyond your control. Take some of that control back."

There was a long pause. Fiona's hands clenched and unclenched at her sides.

"I'll have to go back to Weisshaupt," Fiona said then.

Miranda looked puzzled. "Surely, your Calling..."

A snort of laughter shocked them all. "Calling. Well. No, my Calling isn't really an issue."

"What...?" the word burst from Anders, but they were all thinking it.

"The Architect. And extenuating circumstances. It's in the warden records - surely you've read them?"

Miranda gave a short bark of a laugh. "The Ferelden Warden records begin the day I arrived at the Vigil," she said.

Fiona gave an exasperated sound. "Weisshaupt is so..."

"Lazy?" Anders said. "Lackadaisical? Incompetent?"

She fixed him with an angry glare. "Distracted," she said. "Suffice to say I'm the only warden I know who won't be heading to the deep roads any time soon."

"Maker's breath," Miranda breathed. "We need to get you to Avernus."

"Oh, I hope he has enough bedrooms," Anders said. Neria elbowed him in the ribs. "What? We're already sending him one strange mage..."

"Shut up, Anders," Miranda said. "This is beside the point. My husband will be here any minute. If I tell him who you are, what will you do?"

Fiona wrung her hands. "What would you _have _me do?" she said. "If we tell him... how long will I have..."

Miranda gritted her teeth. "I can have you reassigned to us. What's your magic specialty?"

"I... I'm a healer. Mostly."

"Well. I think we're probably going to lose Rowan soon - he's got other things on his mind. I'll send a request to have you reassigned to the palace as our warden mage. Truly we should have had a warden in the palace aside from ourselves. We're due one, we just never thought it was necessary, considering."

"An _Orlesian?" _Fiona said.

"War's over," Miranda said, flippantly. "And _don't _look at me like that. My father killed more of your people than I've killed darkspawn. It _doesn't matter._"

"You'd truly give me a position..."

"I have a son," Miranda said then. "And Maker knows we fought hard to get him, and _nothing _could make me give him up. I can't believe you did it easily - I can't imagine how hard it was to have to make that decision. But he's still _your son. _And you deserve to know him. Stay with us."

Neria had already seen Fiona cry. She didn't want to stay to see it again. She looked at Miranda, who glanced their way and nodded fractionally, giving them permission, then grabbed Anders and ran.

When they were outside their room, Anders pulled her to a halt and pushed her against a wall, leaning against her and laughing breathlessly.

"She was your Commander?" Neria said, finally when she got her breath. "No wonder you jump to obey orders..."

"Only orders that I _like."_

She craned her neck up and lightly nipped the end of his stubbled chin. "How's this one, then," she said softly. "In the bedroom. _Now."_

He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off her feet, crushing her against him. "Yes Ser!"


	28. Chapter 28

_I've taken a fair few liberties with what was only referred to once in Awakenings. I realise that Wynne refers to the gathering of mages as the "College of Enchanters" and the codex doesn't really elaborate much, aside from letting us know that it's held in Cumberland (whoops). However, I get the feeling the Templars wouldn't let the Senior Enchanters all get together and work out policies without their input - hence my tweaking of the College of Enchanters into the Council of Mages. I also very much doubt that the Grand Divine would be happy about it happening anywhere other than Orlais. So. _

_If it seems unnecessarily complex you can blame the fact that I live in Australia and we just had a Federal Election. Politics is NEVER simple :)._

_

* * *

_

"Why do we always end up doing this just before dinner?" Anders asked, as she lazily trailed her hands over his chest. "I want to lie here and wallow for a while but we have to go and be _respectable."_

He could feel the corners of her mouth, which were pressed rather delightfully against his chest, tilt upwards as she smiled and her warm breath flowed over his nipple. "It's not as though it's the _only _time we do it," she murmured.

He stroked her hair, thinking about how long the dinner would last and whether they could slip away early... probably not, considering. He was delightfully cataloguing all the things they might do with each other when he felt her lift her head.

"Mmm?" he said.

"Do you miss human women?" she asked, tucking some of his hair behind his ear.

"Wha?"

"Do you miss them? I mean.. the.." she made a gesture with her hands that encompassed what would be an entirely out of proportion female form - had it been real. He blinked. She didn't seem upset. But he knew from experience that he should tread carefully around his reply.

"Do you miss elven men?" he said. She grinned and looked downwards.

"No."

He couldn't help the satisfied smirk that spread over his face. _"That's _nice to know."

"But do you? I mean... we're different..."

"Human women come in all shapes and sizes, Neria."

"We don't. Not so much."

He reached up and tweaked her ear. "You are _Neria_ shaped," he said. "That's all I care about."

She grinned. "So you never had a thing for enormous breasts?"

He reached up and cupped one of hers, feeling the smooth, warm skin, still slightly slick with drying sweat, letting his fingers splay over the nipple. He felt desire start to stir again. "More than a handful's a waste, really," he said, giving a gentle squeeze. She tilted her head back and parted her lips in a gesture of pure, wanton pleasure that ignited him beyond all reason. He sat up and pulled her close to him, bending his head to suckle at her breast, groaning against the soft skin when she tangled her hands in his hair.

"I suppose I should take that as a no..." she gasped as he changed to the other breast, pulling it into his mouth.

"Damn right," he mumbled, then continued what he was doing.

* * *

Miranda eyed them with amusement when they entered the dining hall. She was seated with Alistair at the head of the table. Caron was on one side of them and Fiona on the other, closer to Alistair. The elven mage looked different. The hard furrow down the centre of her brow was lifted and she looked younger - uncertain in the candlelight. Alistair, on the other hand, looked slightly bemused. _No different to normal then, _Anders thought.

Miranda was asked to regale the wardens with tales of the Archdemon. Anders had heard this story before _many _times, and concentrated on his food and following the random bursts of conversations in different languages around the table. His Antivan, it seemed, was very, very rusty and out of date - he could barely catch one word in five. He supposed concentrating on the kind of vocabulary Zevran would approve of didn't really prepare him for everyday conversations in the language.

_So many mages, _he thought as he swept his eyes up and down the table. The Tevinters had not yet arrived, which was a shame as Anders _really _wanted to meet them. Ezio had been keen, as well, considering their plans for the Circle.

He wondered if the Tevinter wardens even cared about the plight of mages so far from them. It was a pity the order for the mages to come to Orlais couldn't have come from Weisshaupt. In any case, that they weren't here yet didn't mean they weren't coming at all. He could only imagine what the Templars and the Grand Divine would think of a ship full of them arriving.

* * *

The week passed swiftly and uneventfully. Neria and he took a few outings into the city - difficult at first for neither of them had ever been somewhere with so many _people. _Anders had been to Denerim a few times, but it was a village compared to Val Royeaux. Stone pavements to walk on, gutters and _sewers _(Anders really, _really _hoped Alistair was getting ideas from being here), multi-storied buildings that _weren't _towers... so much _noise..._

The first time they'd ventured out on their own Neria had gotten a little panicked. Caron had urged them not to parade the fact that they were mages considering the Chantry were not yet aware that the warden's piling into the warden compound were here for the Council and not just for warden business, so they dressed in everyday clothes. Anders felt remarkably naked without his staff or the familiar enchantments of his griffon emblazoned robes surrounding him. It didn't help Neria's state of mind that people automatically assumed she was his servant. At the biggest magical store they'd ever seen after going somewhat crazy with their money (what did they have to spend it on back at the Vigil, he'd asked her) the shopkeeper tried to give all the parcels to Neria to carry.

"I thought Orlais was supposed to be _civilised," _she hissed at him on the way out.

"Civilised for some, certainly," he said. "Obviously not for elves."

It was the Chantry that had them both gaping like children. Anders had never seen anything so enormous, yet so delicate at the same time. He and Neria stood underneath the twinned front towers, covered in statues and twining stone, and he _actually _contemplated going in. A quick glance at the commoner's entrance and the two burly Templars standing on either side changed his mind. This was the _heart _of the Chantry. There was little chance that the Templars wouldn't notice their magic. Anders had long since stopped worrying about the background hum his mother and his brother had spent their entire lives learning how to repress - he was a warden, and the Templars could stuff that magic down their fat throats. If they tried to go into the Chantry, dressed as civilians, leaking magic, they'd be carted off to the Orlesian tower faster than ballista fire.

He gently steered Neria away from the building, slightly resentful.

That evening as they walked back through the large double doors of the warden compound he could feel Neria relax. He brushed a strand of black hair from the back of her neck and let his fingers linger on her pulse, which was tripping rapidly. She looked up at his touch and gave him a nervous grin.

"You ok?" he asked softly. She shrugged a shoulder.

"Too much," she said. "Too loud. Must be my elvishness coming through finally. I have a strange urge to run off and live in a forest somewhere."

He laughed.

* * *

Two days before the Council was due to begin the Ferelden Circle representatives arrived. Caron gave them the news at the morning meal. They were still trying to keep their presence quiet for which Anders was grateful. He was certain they wouldn't be able to avoid meeting the Ferelden contingent once the council began, but he wanted to avoid it for as long as possible. He still had a shiver when he thought of Irving as _his father_. He didn't know whether he wanted to punch the man or ... actually, if he was honest with himself he just wanted to punch him. He didn't think that would go down very well with the other representatives.

When the morning of the Council arrived the warden mages gathered in the main hall of the compound. Anders swept his eyes over them - dressed now in warden robes - white griffons standing out on their backs, armed with staffs, a sea of faces, some grim, some full of anticipation.

"Well, we've got to hope the Chantry don't think we're declaring war on them," Anders said to Neria as they prepared to leave.

"Aren't we?" she replied.

It was no accident that the Council was convened in the Templar Compound. Extra safety, Anders thought, as they made their way up the steps to the hall. At the enormous double doors, however, they were halted. Fiona, as the most senior mage, was in command of their group, and she stepped forward. Anders had to laugh, as far back in the crowd as he was - at the spectre of the tiny elven woman (out of her customary mail shirt and in official warden robes) gestured and explained their presence. The Templars on guard were shaking their heads and one was laughing. Other mages, on their way inside, gave them curious looks as they negotiated their entry. Finally Fiona pulled a document from her robes and waved it in front of the main Templar's eyes. Anders was sure he caught a few swear words from her, but the Templar perused the document calmly enough. He handed the document back to her and obviously told her to wait while he ducked inside to confer with his superiors.

When he emerged ten minutes later and waved them inside, Anders heaved a sigh of relief. He had been slightly worried the Chantry would simply laugh off their presence. There was no way they could influence the council if they weren't even allowed into the building. But it seemed the Templars on guard, at least, were sticklers for Chantry law.

The Chamber was half full when the warden mages entered. The Grand Divine's chair was empty - Anders had no doubt it would be full before long, despite the fact that no Grand Divine had thought it necessary to attend a mage council in nearly three hundred years. The Templars were seated next to their respective mages - each circle had their share of representatives - two - and guests who were not allowed a vote but could, at a stretch, voice their opinions.

Every head turned their way. Anders could make out Irving and Cullen, although he couldn't see Greagior anywhere.

Fiona made her way to the centre of the room where the Knight Commander of Orlais stood with an elven servant, arranging people into seats, tallying who was present. The man watched her, an unreadable expression on his face.

"So, the Warden Mages have come to add their voices to the Council," he said. Although he spoke softly, his voice carried through the chamber perfectly and any residual noise petered out.

"We have," Fiona said simply.

The man heaved a sigh. "Well then," he continued. "You'll need to take your seats. The Council is about to begin."


	29. Chapter 29

"Wait," the voice was female, and strident, speaking Orlesian. Anders got ready to translate for Neria. A middle aged Chantry sister - obviously high ranking, was pushing her way through the crowds of mages and templars to the centre of the room where the Knight Commander stood. "This is preposterous. The wardens have no right to be here!"

"Matriarch," the Knight Commander replied. "I have checked the records. This is all in order."

"Jehan, you cannot be serious," she continued, turning to call another woman forward. "Genevieve will go through the records again. We cannot begin the council until this has been verified with the Grand Divine..."

"Your holiness, I must beg to disagree. The warden mages have places on the council..."

"Foolish man!" she was almost snarling.

"Matriarch, I assure you this is perfectly legitimate according to Chantry Law. Believe me when I tell you I wish it were otherwise."

"Have it your way then," she hissed. "Begin the Council. But mark my words these _apostates_ will be thrown out of here before the end of the day!" She and the other woman left the room, making Anders wonder what they could possibly come up with to make things difficult. He had no doubt she would come up with _something_.

The last of the mages and templars filtered in and took their seats. Anders was interested to see Greagior finally enter - looking worn around the eyes and much, much older than he remembered. The younger templar, Cullen stood up as his Commander arrived, relief evident in his features, and helped him to a seat. Anders healing sense tingled even so far away as he was and he had a sudden inkling of what might be bothering the Knight Commander of Kinloch Hold.

"Greagior doesn't look well," Neria whispered to him. Anders shook his head, surprised to find he was worried about the man.

"Lyrium," he said softly. "It looks like Greagior's finally succumbing to it. Poor bastard."

Neria's eyes widened in surprised sympathy.

Fiona was still speaking quietly with the Knight Commander, who was nodding, his face guarded. Finally she made her way back up to where Anders and Neria were sitting.

"Ezio's going to lay out the proposal," she whispered to them. "But we've got a few formalities first."

Anders had some idea of what the formalities would entail as soon as the Matriarch reappeared with a full contingent of sisters behind her. He repressed the urge to groan. He didn't think he'd sat through a full Chantry sermon since he left the Tower and he wasn't looking forward to it again.

Of course it was Transfigurations. In Orlesian, though, which he hadn't heard before - making it somewhat more interesting than Sister Adela's recitals at noon every week in the Tower's Chantry. Still, it went on for far too long. Anders got the impression the Matriarch was talking more slowly than normal - several of the Orlesians shifted in their seats and sighed during the recital.

The Matriarch was stalling.

When finally she came to the conclusion of the canticle they were lead in prayer. Again, it was unnecessarily long winded and heavy on the "mages need to be locked up because they're dangerous" angle. He could feel Fiona tensing next to him on the bench, and Neria looked suspiciously like she was going to fall asleep.

He had confirmation that the woman was stalling when her eyes lit up - the younger sister from earlier appeared back in the chamber and the Matriarch wrapped up abruptly. Knight Commander Jehan stepped forward into her place and Anders could feel the tension level in the chamber increase.

"Gentlemen and ladies," he began. "The Mages Council is now in session. I call forth Ezio Genaro of the Antivan Circle to put forth his proposal."

The Antivan mage stepped up to the lectern, spreading out his papers. "Our proposal is simple," he began, again speaking Orlesian. He paused, giving the various mages and templars time to translate to each other. Anders translated for Neria, but kept his eye on the corner of the room where the Matriarch and her fellow sister stood. They were deep in conversation, the younger woman holding a large tome, flipped open, running her fingers down the page.

As Ezio spoke - laying out his ideas for individual towers in towns with assigned templars, Anders watched as the Matriarch got angrier and angrier. He couldn't stop the smirk that spread over his face, thinking the damn woman was not going to get what she wanted, until the younger woman jabbed at the book and the Matriarch stood up, a smile spreading over her face.

Ezio was coming to the end of his proposal, but the Matriarch seemed to care nothing for propriety, for she strode to the lectern and pushed the Antivan mage out of the way.

There were shouts of outrage from the mages, but the woman simply stood and waited for them to subside. The Knight Commander stepped forward but she held up her hand.

"No, Jehan," she said. "We have business that is more important."

"If the Matriarch wishes to make a point of order..."

"I do!" she cried. "There are mages present who are not permitted. My archivist has gone through the Chantry records."

"I have already..." the Knight Commander started, but the Matriarch held up her hand.

"The records state that no mage who has not undergone the Harrowing be permitted to hold a place on the Council," she said, and she couldn't disguise the glee in her voice.

Anders rolled his eyes. Did she think warden mages were _all _apostates? He scanned the wardens he was sitting with and suddenly his stomach sank. Several of them were looking uncomfortable - both the wardens from Antiva looked outright frightened.

Fiona hissed. "That's a problem," she said.

"You mean some of these wardens were never in the Circle?" Neria said.

"Many of the senior mage wardens were originally apostates," Fiona said. Anders and Neria both looked at her. She shrugged. "The Circle's indoctrination tends to squash leadership potential," she said. "You two are the exception, not the rule."

"_You've _been harrowed, haven't you?" Anders asked.

"Of course," Fiona said, but she hushed them both and turned their attention back to the centre of the room.

Ezio was standing next to the lectern. "Your Holiness," he said. "What do you propose we do?"

"Those who have not been Harrowed must leave the chamber immediately," she said. The mage wardens erupted into noise behind them and Fiona got to her feet. The Knight Commander held up his arms for silence.

"Go ahead, warden," he said, once the chamber was still.

"Will the chamber allow those Wardens who have not undergone the Harrowing to be Harrowed as soon as possible?" she asked. There were murmurs behind her. It was a drastic suggestion, but Anders didn't think the warden mages would succumb easily to the demons of the fade - given the horrors and temptations they faced every day.

It wasn't acceptable for the Matriarch, however.

"Of course not!" the Matriarch replied. "You cannot expect us to believe those wardens who have been Harrowed have not shared the secret of the ritual with those who have not..."

Angry murmurs met this comment. Although Anders would lay bets that she was completely right on _that _score.

"I am afraid," the Knight Commander said, "I must ask those mages who have not undergone the ritual to leave the chamber..."

"There is no way of proving which of the wardens have undergone the Harrowing and which haven't," the Matriarch continued, sounding triumphant. "Therefore I submit that _none _of them remain."

This was met with uproar. "I object _strenuously," _Fiona said. "Many of these wardens come from circles who have representatives present - their Harrowings are matters of circle record..."

"Unless those records can be produced.."

"Enough!" A different voice called from the benches, in Ferelden accented Orlesian. Anders was shocked to see Irving _and _Greagior on their feet. "Each circle has representatives present," Irving continued. "We shall vouch for those mages we are certain went through their Harrowings."

Although many of the templars looked disgruntled at this proposal the majority made affirmative noises and the Matriarch pressed her lips together firmly, looking at the Knight Commander. He nodded. "That is acceptable," he said.

It wasn't fair - there were mages in the wardens who had certainly been Harrowed, but who were unknown to their circle representatives. Luckily the current First Enchanter of Orlais had been present at the Tower for Fiona's Harrowing - but some of the other older wardens weren't so lucky. In the end, nearly half of the warden mages were forced to leave the Chamber.

"Where does that leave us, numbers wise I wonder?" Anders asked Fiona. She shrugged. From the look on Ezio's face, however, Anders wasn't hopeful.

It was possible they'd come all this way for nothing.

Once the wardens had left the chamber, Ezio took his place again at the lectern. The rest of the proposal was outlined.

The grumbling of his stomach let Anders know they'd been in the Chamber for far too long, and his feelings were confirmed when the Knight Commander called for an end to the day's proceedings. As they filed from the Chamber, Anders couldn't help but feel deflated. Ezio made his way to them once they were outside, his face grim.

"What do you think?" Fiona asked the older mage. "Are we defeated?"

"Not yet, my dear," Ezio replied. "Not yet. I shall not give up hope for our cause. That your Irving and Greagior were willing to stand up for you gives me hope that there are some amongst the Aequitarians and Lucrosians who will support our cause. More than did previously, in any case."

"Gah," Fiona spat. "The fraternities annoy me."

"You were never a member of one?" Neria asked.

"Were you?"

"Libertarian," Neria replied. "Of course. Well... I was a being trained up as a good little Loyalist but then Uldred happened and truly - _that _was enough to make Libertarians of _all_ of us."

"I don't need to ask you, Anders, do I?"

"If there was an Andersarian fraternity I would have belonged," Anders said, grinning. "Funnily enough none of them ever approached me. I wonder why that was?"

"Must have been your charming personality, my friend," Ezio said, laughing. "In any case, we shall see what comes of this tomorrow. I have hope, my friends. And in any case, we have certainly set the cat amongst the pigeons. The Matriarch is running scared of us, _she _believes we are a threat."

"Then we shall have to press our advantages," Fiona said decisively. "Tomorrow, the real persuading begins."


	30. Chapter 30

That night dinner was subdued. The warden mages who had been excluded from the council were understandably resentful, but those who had been present were quietly explaining what had transpired when they left. Fiona was ferociously stabbing at her food. Neria wanted to ask her how her news had been received by Alistair, but the prickly elf was so much more prickly than normal that she decided against it.

Near the end of dinner there was a commotion at the door and she heard an extremely familiar voice floating over the murmurings of a warden servant.

"You don't understand, we _must _see her. Something has to be done..." she looked up at Anders who's fork was frozen halfway to his mouth - _he _recognised the voice as well.

The doors to the dining hall opened and a servant entered. "I'm sorry, Commander, but he insisted on seeing you immediately."

Caron got to his feet as Cullen entered, looking haggard.

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure," Caron said.

"Forgive me, Warden Commander," the Templar said, giving a low bow. "But I come with urgent news for the Warden mages."

"Well, lad, they're all here. Give your news."

Cullen scanned the table before he found Fiona, his gaze resting briefly on Neria's. There was a flash of something in his eyes, but he focused on the senior mage, again giving a Templar bow. "Ser Mage," he said. "The mages who have shown approval for your proposal are in grave danger. I believe the Chantry will take drastic steps to prevent the motion from passing tomorrow."

"Drastic steps?" Anders said. "What kind of drastic steps?"

"First Enchanter Irving has been poisoned," Cullen said, and his voice was desperate. There was a muttering from the mages and Neria saw Anders blanch.

"Is he dead?" Fiona said.

Cullen shook his head. "Not as yet, Ser Mage. He insisted I come and inform you - he believes the other Libertarians are in danger..."

Anders was on his feet before Neria could react. "Who's healing him?" he asked.

Cullen looked at Anders, obviously puzzled. "There are many healers amongst the mages gathered for the council..." he said. Anders snorted and started from the room.

Neria knew why Anders was unimpressed - Circle Mages never had to deal with the range of injuries and illnesses the Wardens encountered. And she _knew _Anders had experience with poisons - Zevran had been very particular about educating the Ferelden wardens on their effects.

"Wait, Anders," Fiona said. He turned back to her, an eyebrow raised. Neria could see he was burning to leave, and knew nothing Fiona could say would convince him otherwise.

"Yes?"

"We're coming with you," Fiona said. She pointed at three other mages at the table - obviously known to her. "If the Chantry are targeting sympathetic mages there's no reason to believe they'll stop at Irving. We'll need to help."

Cullen nodded, seeming relieved to have the matter taken out of his hands. Neria followed Fiona and Anders out into the streets of Val Royeaux. Cullen had arrived in a carriage, large enough to carry all of them if some rode on the roof. Fiona nodded to Anders and Neria to get inside, before climbing up herself. The other mages clambered up onto the roof.

Cullen seemed his old self, she noticed. He was biting his lip in nervousness and glancing between each of them as though they were about to attack. He avoided Neria's eyes, though.

"How bad is he?" Anders asked the Templar - all professionalism. He had switched into healer mode, a totally different Anders - his usual humour switched off like a lamp until the problem was quantified and dealt with.

"The healers say it's magebane," Cullen said. "The First Enchanter was able to detect it before he took the full dose, thank the Maker. They think he'll live."

Anders raised an eyebrow. "Magebane seems a little crude," Neria said, thinking back on her lessons with Zevran. "Most senior mages are well able to detect it - its not exactly subtle."

"Yes," Anders said, looking out the window and chewing his lip.

They pulled up at the Mage Compound and Cullen practically leapt from the carriage. He helped Fiona down, even though the elf tutted with impatience, then held out his gauntleted hand to Neria. She looked up at him as she descended and was momentarily paralyzed by the look in his eyes - recognition, affection - not a trace of the fear that she had become used to in the Tower. She almost smiled, but the warmth of Anders' body behind her distracted her and she turned to him instead.

"Let's go," he said shortly. Fiona waited at the entrance for the other mages to arrive while Cullen led them through the halls to where Irving lay.

The room was simple and unadorned, much like the warden quarters they'd been staying in. Irving lay in a narrow cot in its centre, two healers next to him. They looked up as their group entered, faces worried, and one of them started speaking heavily accented Ferelden.

"There is something wrong," she said. "We have tried to.. find the poison but..."

Anders stepped forward and swept the two healers aside, magic flaring as he did so. Irving was unconscious, pale and sweating. Neria stood with Cullen just inside the doorway.

"Cunning bastards," Anders muttered as he worked. "The magebane was a cover. They thought - _rightly _I might add - that the healers would concentrate on purging that and ignore the real problem."

"What's the real problem?" Cullen asked.

"Quiet Death," Anders almost spat. "Nature damage. Neria, I need you."

She stepped forward, puzzled. "Why?"

"No time," he said, taking her hand. "You need to cast walking bomb - on me."

She opened her mouth to protest but he squeezed her hand. _"Trust _me, Neria. Just do it."

She searched his face briefly as she gathered power. Anders shot a look at Cullen "No tricks from you," he said. "Not if you want him to live." She released the spell into Anders and he grunted. She could see the pain it caused and she wanted to pull back, but Anders' grip on her hand was vice-like. He placed his other hand on Irving's chest and suddenly she could feel his own special blend of healing magic welling up and over hers - twining with it, neutralizing the damage it was doing to Anders. The two types of magic blended into one before he started to pour it into the unconscious body in front of him.

"What is he doing?" Cullen asked. "That's an offensive spell..."

"He's countering the nature damage in his own body and using it to fight the poison in Irving's," the second healer said - his Ferelden much better than his companion's. There was wonder in his voice. "We would never have _thought _of it..."

Anders grunted, obviously too occupied to respond any other way. Neria could translate for him, though. Circle mages didn't learn enough in the field. They wouldn't have thought of it because they would never have come across a situation when they would _need _to think of it.

Neria felt the magic building - it was nearing the point where her walking bomb would wear off - usually the point at which her enemies exploded. Anders had been self-healing as well as channeling his magic into Irving, so she wasn't particularly worried that the same would happen to him, but she knew he had drained himself significantly maintaining both spells and she unhooked a lyrium potion from her bandolier with her free hand.

Anders shook his head minutely and she waited. Irving's body arched upwards and Anders shut his eyes, pushing himself for one last burst of energy before expelling a breath and letting her hand drop. Irving collapsed back onto the bed, his breath easier than it had been. She offered the lyrium potion but he again shook his head so she tucked it back into place.

"Will he live?" Cullen asked.

Anders nodded. "He'll live," he said. "Do you know what the poison was in? Had he just eaten?"

"His water jug," Cullen said, looking pained. Anders got to his feet and grabbed the jug from the washstand, sniffing it, then letting loose a small amount of power.

"Good," he said. "There's traces of both in here. I was afraid for a moment they might have delivered the two poisons separately."

"I don't think the Chantry wants to slaughter every mage in Val Royeaux," Cullen said. "That would look suspicious."

"Who has access to the room?" Anders asked Cullen. The Templar looked miserable.

"Everyone. We don't lock doors here."

Anders grimaced. "Oh, yes, I forgot. You never do in the Tower either. Can't have mages having any sort of private life, after all."

"Please, ser Mage..."

"It's Anders, Cullen. I'm hurt you don't remember me."

Cullen cocked an eyebrow, a small spark of defiance in his eyes that made Neria's mouth twitch. "Oh, I remember you," he said. "But I'm on _your _side. Irving, Greaigor and I were all going to support the proposal."

"What about Torrin?" Neria asked.

Cullen pursed his lips. "He won't say."

There was a knock at the door and they turned to see Fiona accompanied by a mage apprentice. "Three more have been poisoned," she said grimly. Anders nodded and got to his feet. "It's all right, Anders," Fiona said. "The wardens are dealing with it."

"Do they know about the Quiet Death?" he said.

Fiona looked puzzled. "Quiet Death? Is that what was used?"

"A combination of that and magebane - look, Fiona, you'll need to..."

Fiona shook her head. "The other mages are recovering well, Anders. Only magebane was used, but they could use some more help?" she looked at the two other mages in the room, who nodded and left.

Anders looked puzzled, then glanced down at Irving in the bed. "Stupid poison to use," he said. "If they wanted the mages dead. Very stupid. It's _pink _and it _smells._"

"Maybe they didn't want the other mages dead," Neria said. "Maybe they just wanted to scare them."

Fiona bit her fist in thought. "But you say Irving was given a dose of Quiet Death _as well?"_

Neria nodded.

"So _him _they wanted dead," Anders said. "Possibly because he spoke up in today's Council?"

"Why didn't they poison Greagior?" Neria asked.

"I doubt they'd stoop to poisoning Templars," Anders spat. "That would be too much like murder."

"Or they didn't think it was worth the effort," Cullen said bitterly. Neria looked at him in sympathy.

There was movement from the cot and Anders knelt beside his patient. "Maker," Irving groaned.

"He's not here," Anders said cheerfully. "You'll have to make do with me, I'm afraid."

The First Enchanter blinked, focusing on Anders whose hands were glowing blue again. "Anders?" he said.

"Yes," Anders said. "Hello, father."


	31. Chapter 31

Anders was slightly surprised at how quickly Neria managed to clear the room of everyone, even though Cullen, he could see, was babbling at her and waving his hands at Anders and Irving as though he were possessed...

Irving, for his part, simply looked up at Anders, his wrinkled face and hazel eyes expressionless. Anders was still working, finding and clearing the last vestiges of magebane, checking for internal damage. The First Enchanter was in remarkably good health. Anders supposed living in a Tower surrounded by healers was an advantage.

"Not going to say anything to me?" he said after the room had cleared.

"How did you find out?"

"My mother left me a letter," he said, patting the pocket where Joscelyn's words still lay. "She gave it to my stepfather to give to me if he thought I should know."

"I assume you only found out recently," Irving struggled to sit up and Anders helped him, propping him with the thin pillow. "Otherwise you would have confronted me three years ago."

"I _was _very busy then. Being beat up by Templars. Protecting monarchs. I didn't really have time to visit _relatives."_

Irving gave a short, sharp laugh. "But you didn't know, not then. You're not the type to sit on something like that."

"No I'm not. And if you weren't an invalid and my patient at the moment I'd probably have to punch you. It's a pity I didn't know about it then, back when I _could _punch you. Because I would have punched you. Just so you know."

"And what would that have accomplished, Anders?"

"Would have made _me _feel good."

"Punching me for something that was out of your control and entirely the choice of your mother?"

"I don't have to be rational, _father_. I'm not like you. At all. My mother saw to that. And where exactly do you get off, dragging me into your office when I was all of fifteen to tell me to _betray her to the Templars?"_

Irving sighed and closed his eyes. "I knew she was dead, Anders."

"Did you know _how _she died? Did you know _I could have saved her.."_

"Do you want me to apologise?" the older man interrupted. "I didn't send the Templars after you, Anders."

Anders blew air out his mouth and got to his feet, wanting desperately to do something with his hands. Irving was fine, now. He would recover perfectly well. He could probably even get away with punching him a little.

"And a year of solitary confinement?" he said after a pause. "That was _your _idea. Do you know how many times I was nearly possessed?"

"How many?"

"Well, once actually. But that's not the point."

Irving pursed his lips, looking angry for the first time. "What is the point, exactly, Anders? Your other alternative was death. It took a lot of persuading to convince Greagior hanging you wouldn't be a good idea."

"So you saved my life in order to offer me up to demons on a platter?"

"Anders, I _had no choice. _And if you recall, I did let you out in the end."

They fell silent, looking at one another, the air charged with tension. No magic, though. Irving was obviously beyond letting his emotions control his power and Anders had expended most of his mana healing him. There was a soft miaow from Pounce, who was curled in the special bag Neria had made for him and Anders buried his hand in it, feeling the soft fur as a kind of balm to his ragged nerves.

"I hated you _so much," _Anders said finally.

The old mage lifted an eyebrow. "Should I be pleased you used the past tense there, young man?"

He laughed. "Oh, I still do hate you. Never fear. Before I only hated you because you were the symbol of everything that was wrong with the Circle. Now I hate you for more _personal _reasons."

"I tried to protect you, Anders. But you know as well as anyone we cannot do as we please in the Tower. No matter the motivations. I was very lucky to have Knight Commander Greagior alongside me for all these years, otherwise I doubt very much you would have survived."

There was a single rickety chair in the room. Anders sat on it. He looked at the man in the bed, noting how much older than Felix he was, how much more weary around the eyes. "You know, it's not even what you did to me that made me hate you," he said finally. "It was what you didn't do for everyone else. What's the point of being in command if you can't change things?

"You know the truth of it, Anders. I was in command as long as it suited them for me to be. As soon as I tried to do something that would change things I would have been removed. That's why Greagior and I tried to do things more subtly..."

"There's a difference between doing things subtly and _not doing them at all."_

Irving's face clouded with disapproval. "You weren't at the Tower for very long, Anders. You didn't see what it was like, when I was a child. When the Orlesians were occupying Ferelden our Tower was virtually indistinguishable from theirs. Ask the mages here what _their _lives are like. You've seen them, lighting the lamps of Val Royeaux, have you not?" _Like cattle, _he thought, remembering, and nodded. "And yet, when this proposal of Ezio's comes to the vote, I can almost guarantee you that the Orlesian mages will vote against it. They are complicit in their own imprisonment. I could destroy their Tower and they would mill around waiting for Templars to tell them what to do. Can you see the Ferelden mages doing this?"

Anders snorted. At a pinch... well... no he couldn't. Not all of them at any rate.

"What we teach is important, Anders. The way _I _was taught... it was very different to the way you were. When you were there to be taught at all, that is."

There was a pause while Anders looked at his hands. "What I learned I learned from my mother," he said finally. "But I guess you're right."

"No, if there's change to be done it's got to be done _this _way. And obviously if we are not careful some of us are not going to see that change happen."

"Why did they try to kill _you _of all people?" Anders asked. "I know you spoke up at the Council, but you've never been a Libertarian."

"With Greagior... indisposed I've become more vulnerable to the Chantry," Irving said, sounding weary. "Greagior knew which Templars we could trust, which Templars wouldn't report on what we were teaching. Now.. well now he barely knows anything. A few got through. I have no doubt the poisoning would have happened even if the proposal had not."

"Huh," Anders blinked. Now that he thought about it, the Templars at the Tower had always been different to the ones who had hunted him down and brought him back. Cullen was a prime example - too kind hearted. Those who weren't like Cullen tended to be like Carroll - thicker than bronto hide. Certainly not intelligent enough to notice that

So Greagior and Irving had been stacking the assignments so they could breed mages who thought for themselves...

"Uldred was _your _fault then?" Anders said, following the line of thought to its logical conclusion.

Irving closed his eyes. "An unfortunate side effect of our methods, yes," he said.

"I wouldn't use the word "unfortunate" to describe it in front of Neria, First Enchanter," Anders said. "Not if you want to keep your beard."

"You forget I was there, Anders."

"No. No I don't forget that."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Anders didn't think he had anything left to say, and the urge to punch had faded.

"It is good to see you, Anders," Irving said finally. "It is good to know that.. you know. And I am very glad you've found a place with the Wardens."

"It's a good place," Anders said. "I'm very happy."

"That...is even better to hear. Am I right in thinking that young Neria as something to do with that happiness?"

_What gives you the right to ask that? _he wanted to say. But he knew, really. "Yes."

"Then I am glad for you both. Poor Neria went through too much after the rebellion. She and Cullen were my greatest regrets. And you, of course. It seems fitting that the two of you found solace in each other."

"I had nothing to find solace from," Anders said, smiling slightly. "But thanks. Although I don't think much of your therapy methods. Why did you appoint Cullen her Templar? You've got to admit that's pretty darn creepy of you."

"Cullen is a good man, Anders. One of the best. He will be Knight Commander once Greagior leaves us."

"You don't think the position might be suited to someone who isn't quite so..."

"Quite so what?"

"Barking mad?"

"Cullen is as sane as you and I, Anders."

"Why doesn't that reassure me?"

"Truly, Anders, he is perfectly well - thanks largely to your Neria. When she left the Tower he was understandably upset, but he has since proven invaluable to us in our time of rebuilding. Do be kind to him - he may surprise you."

_As long as he doesn't surprise me by smiting my girlfriend, _Anders thought. "Well," he said instead, getting to his feet. "You're cured. I should probably go."

Irving smiled. "Thank you for listening, Anders."

"You know, don't mention it. I possibly don't hate you quite so much as I used to. But don't let it go to your head."

Irving rested back on his pillows and his eyes drifted shut. "I wouldn't dream of it, young man," he murmured.

By the time Anders reached the door the old man was snoring softly.


	32. Chapter 32

"Are you all right?" she combed his hair back from his face. He blinked fuzzily to find Neria leaning over him, her dark eyes full of concern.

"Just dreaming," he said.

"Nightmare?"

He blinked again. The broodmothers from the pit in Kal'Hirol. He'd been there again. He'd controlled his darkspawn dreams years ago - this hadn't been one. Just an ordinary nightmare of crushing walls and fetid stench and flailing tentacles.

"Huh. I must be stressed about something," he reached up and cupped her cheek, smiling. "What time is it?"

"Just after dawn," she leaned her head into his hand, closing her eyes, and he ran his thumb over her full lips, feeling the familiar heat start in his belly. She seemed to sense his change of mood because her lips tilted at the edges and she kissed his thumb, drawing it into her mouth and lightly running her tongue over its tip. He shivered, then reached for a touch of power, releasing it into her and making her gasp before tracing his hand down her neck to her breast. She tilted her head upwards, still smiling, still with her eyes closed, as he traced the curve to her nipple and tweaked.

She laughed, opening her eyes and leaning forward to kiss him, pressing herself against his chest so he could feel the beat of her heart against his.

He did his best to erase the feeling of his nightmare in the scent and feel of her around him. It worked, hearing her gasp his name and feeling her clutch at his back - these things made claustrophobia and death seem a long, long way away. Almost far enough to be forgotten.

Afterwards, as dawn light started to filter into the high window of their chamber, she repeated the question.

"Are you all right?"

"What do you mean?"

"Yesterday. Talking to Irving... you wouldn't tell me what happened..."

He shrugged, his head buried in her neck. She giggled as his stubble scraped across her chin. He nipped her earlobe. "Irving's a bastard. But he explained a few things."

"Did he know why he was poisoned?"

"Seemed to think that they were going to do that to him any way," he said. "For teaching the Ferelden mages to be subversive."

Neria all but exploded into laughter. _"Irving? _Teaching mages to be _subversive?"_

Anders laughed with her. "I _know. _It seems ridiculous. But then he _did_ let me teach healing."

"And how many classes did you actually end up in front of?

"I'll have you know I helped shape the minds of at least... ten young mages."

"I know for a fact you only taught three classes in your entire time as a harrowed mage," she said.

"More than you!" he said.

"Yes, well I suspect letting a blood mage collaborator - or whatever the name for someone like me is - teach was a bit beyond the pale even for a _subversive _First Enchanter. Maker's Breath."

He laughed and gently lifted her off him. "Council time, I think," he said then. "We should be on our guard. I get the impression the Chantry haven't finished trying to stop this thing from happening."

Neria looked grim. "I wonder which of them are going to be surprised that Irving is still alive," she said.

"We'll have to keep an eye out," he replied. "I'm sure there will be more than one."

The mood at the council was subdued when they filed in. The mages who had been poisoned were still shaky and ill, but they looked determined rather than frightened and Anders felt a small surge of triumph.

That was quashed pretty darn quickly when the Chantry representatives filed in.

"Andraste's knickerweasels," Anders hissed at Neria, "who invited _her?"_

Neria's mouth dropped open in surprise and Fiona leant across her to give Anders a rueful smile. "I rather think she invited herself, don't you?" she said.

The Grand Divine took her place in the throne like chair at the centre of the room, looking for all the world as though _she _had the power to blast them all with lightning. _The fire of her belief,_ Anders thought. _Perhaps she thinks that's all there is to it._

He glanced across to where Irving and Cullen and Greagior were sitting. The old Knight Commander was sitting ramrod straight in his seat, but Anders very much doubted that the glazed eyes saw anything. He wondered how Irving was keeping him from displaying any of the more overt signs of lyrium dementia. Heavy doses of healing and rejuvenation magic, probably.

Exchanging one addiction for another.

The sermon was delivered by the Grand Divine herself. If they'd thought the matriarch was heavy on the anti-mage rhetoric it was nothing to the old woman who held the floor now. She all but spat the words of the chant, pointing at random mages with a shaking hand, declaiming before the Maker the faults they were born with. By the end, every mage in the room was shifting uncomfortably. The Orlesian mages looked downright terrified, and Anders remembered Irving's words from the night before.

She did not finish with the sermon, however. After the prayer, she stood at the lectern for a long moment before beginning again.

"I have held the office of Grand Divine for nearly two decades," she said, her voice softer, almost caressing. "I feel the power of the Chant of Light. The Maker has given me his blessing. Never before have I been more certain of the will of the Maker than at this moment. This _proposal _you have brought is a travesty, a heresy, an _offense _against the Maker and it must _not _be allowed to pass. If it does, I must warn you you will bring down upon the mages of Thedas the wrath of the Maker."

She finished abruptly and sat back in her throne. "Tell us what you really think next time, your holiness," Anders breathed to Neria. She clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.

Ezio took the stage again, looking somewhat nervous, but determined. "My friends," he said, and his voice was shaking somewhat. "I hear the Grand Divine's words, and I am afraid." There was a murmur from the assembled mages. Afraid? "I am afraid that the rules by which we have lived our lives mean nothing to those who impose them. Afraid that we have always been, and will always be, a _resource _to the Chantry rather than individuals with rights and lives of our own. For centuries we have accepted the restrictions placed on us by the Chantry. We have acknowledged that they are, in some part, _necessary. _Yes, mages are dangerous. Yes we command power beyond that of the normal men and women of Thedas.

"This proposal does not suggest that we remove those restrictions. Only that they be modified. We have the right to do this - it is enshrined in the very rules and regulations quoted at us yesterday. Do not let yourselves be intimidated by threats. The Maker watches over _all _his children, and _we _are his children, just as much as anyone. There are those amongst you who have been threatened, those among you who have been more than threatened. But I ask you, when you vote, to think of those mages who went before you, and those who will come after."

Ezio bowed and left the lectern. Knight Commander Jehan took his place an called for the vote to begin.

Anders bit his fist as each mage made their slow way to the ballot box. It was a silent vote, thank goodness, although he wouldn't have put it past the Grand Divine to try to work out which token each mage placed. The Knight Commander would tally them, watched by Ezio and the Matriarch from the day before to be certain that he was unbiased.

When the time came for Anders and the wardens to vote, the Grand Divine fixed them with a calculating glare. If she had been armed he would have reached for a fade shield to protect himself _and _Neria. The force of hatred coming from her was enough to set the hairs on the nape of his neck to rising.

He dropped the white token into the box, not bothering to hide which way he voted - as did Neria. The wardens were the last to vote, and the Knight Commander took the box away, followed closely by Ezio and the Matriarch, to tally them.

It seemed to take forever for them to return, but Anders knew it was only ten or so minutes. When the Knight Commander returned there was a buzz of anticipation. Anders flicked his eyes to the Grand Divine, who was sitting forward in her seat, clutching at the arms, her mouth open. He reached out a hand and took Neria's, suddenly uneasy. "Be ready," he whispered to her. She looked up at him and nodded.

"The proposal has passed," the Knight Commander announced as soon as he reached the podium.

The Grand Divine leapt to her feet, throwing her arm out and shouting. Suddenly the air was full of energy. "Smites!" Anders shouted, and _did _reach for his shield, just before the concentrated might of twenty Templars started striking down the mages around him.


	33. Chapter 33

For a moment he was stunned - not by the smites, but by the burning _light. _His shield held - he and Neria were unharmed and still had mana at their disposal, but it was only a matter of time before the Templars could gather enough for another smite. The rest of the mages were on the floor, groaning - save for Irving who appeared to have had the same instinct as Anders - he could see the blue light of a shield shimmering around him, Cullen and Greagior.

"Attack!" the Grand Divine was screeching. "Those who are still standing - _they _are the blood mages! Attack them! Attack!"

Anders internal clock was counting down the seconds until the Templars could smite again, but that wasn't their only problem. They were surrounded, and they were outnumbered. He pulled The Keening Blade from its sheath and readied Spellfury in his other hand. It was time to test his swordsmanship.

"Neria!" he yelled. "This is going to end up being hand to hand. You need to transform."

She nodded and began the incantation - spider form naturally. The first of the Templars cast cleanse obliterating Anders' shield, and attacked swinging at Neria. Anders blocked it with Spellfury, slicing down with his sword into the Templar's body. He would have to spend the next half a minute or so defending Neria while she transformed.

He fought silently, using magic in concentrated spikes. There was no point activating elemental chaos - it would be dispelled as soon as he did - the Templars could still cleanse. Beside him he felt Neria's power spike and the transformation begin. He shouted a wordless battle cry to distract another Templar before beheading the one in front of him.

Suddenly he felt a wave of rejuvenating energy wash over him and he looked to see Irving on his feet, his staff outstretched towards them. Cullen was beside him, fighting his brothers, as was Greagior. The old Templar was roaring in incoherent fury, striking down the Templars around him without prejudice, reminding Anders of Oghren at the height of his beserker rage.

It wasn't enough.

As the first jet of web shot from Neria's spider form Anders saw Greagior cut down, then Irving. Anders gasped, feeling a near physical pain from a rush of power that the older mage released - rejuvenating energy - _all of the old man's mana - _came rushing into him. "Run!" he heard Irving scream. Neria spat poison at the Templars surrounding them, sending them writhing on the ground before leaping on one and worrying at him with her fangs. Anders shouted at her to run and the enormous body of the spider leapt backwards turning towards the door. He shot a massive blast of lightning out in front of him, hoping to Andraste that he only hit Templars, then turned to follow her.

Out on the street there were screams. Neria had paused and he saw the shimmer of magic around her again as her form shifted - but she didn't revert to human, instead he saw a mirror of Pounce. "Good thinking," he said as he bent to scoop her up. It was only when she was in his arms that he noticed she was bleeding. A lot. There was a gash in her side - obviously from a Templar sword. He had no idea how the wound had transferred between her forms, nor did he really know how his healing magic would affect it, but he didn't have time to think, he sealed the cut and started to run, years of apostasy taking over while in the back of his head the warden he had become screamed and riled at the injustice of it.

* * *

Alistair received the message in mid-afternoon. There was a big chance that Empress Celene would break off diplomatic relations with them if they attended it, but Alistair didn't particularly care. Miranda pointed out that it was an international incident - Greagior and Irving were _Fereldens_ on _Orlesian _soil - their deaths, even if they were the direct result of blood magic - were worthy of his attention.

He tried not to think about how frantic with worry she'd been when she'd heard that Anders and Neria were missing. He knew she still felt like the wardens were hers, Anders, Nate, Sigrun and Oghren more than any of the others. He still hated that he hadn't been there for that part of her life, and he was, no matter what his other personal feelings about the former apostate, forever grateful that she'd been surrounded by people who took care of her and cared _for _her in that time.

And now he was on the run - in the spiritual home of the Chantry.

As they alighted from the carriage at the warden compound Miranda was thrumming with tension, and Leliana was trying to comfort her. Fiona... _his mother _met them at the gates. She looked pale - the word was the mages had all been hit with smites. Alistair knew from experience how nasty that could be. It was astonishing that Neria and Anders - and Irving - had still been able to function.

Fiona dipped a curtsey. Alistair rolled his eyes and caught her elbow before she could go all the way down. "Please," he said softly. She looked up at him, her eyes unreadable, but didn't finish the curtsey. He supposed that was a start.

They made their way to the Warden Commander's office.

"You shouldn't have come," Caron said. "This is warden business now."

"We're all wardens here, Commander," Alistair said.

"These are my _friends," _Miranda added forcefully. "We have to find them."

Alistair put his hand on Miranda's arm. She wanted to take command, he knew it. Caron might even let her - but Alistair had no desire to undermine the man's authority. He turned to Fiona.

"Can you tell me exactly what happened?"

Fiona sat heavily in a chair and passed her hand over her eyes. "When we came to we thought we were all going to be carted off to prison," she said shakily. "But the Grand Divine is cleverer than that. She's accused the Ferelden mages of blood magic - Irving, Torrin, Anders and Neria. She said they were controlling the rest of us."

"I hope you didn't disabuse her of the notion?" Miranda said.

"We weren't that stupid," Fiona said. "She's got us where she wants us. The proposal passed _legitimately _but she can dismiss it out of hand unless we can somehow prove that Anders and Neria _aren't _blood mages."

Alistair looked at Miranda, who shook her head. "No," she said. "He isn't. I can't say the same for Neria, although I think they would have told me. But Anders despises blood magic - he wouldn't go near it."

"I doubt Neria is," Fiona said. "She doesn't seem the type. Although the Grand Divine is using her transformation as proof. It doesn't help that none of the other mages have seen that magic before, save for us of course."

"So," Miranda said. "We need to find them. Before the Chantry does."

"The Chantry still have both their phylacteries," Alistair said.

Fiona groaned. "We can hope they're still in Ferelden," she said.

"No reason why they wouldn't be," Alistair said. "The Chantry didn't _know _wardens were going to be on the council. You can bet anything they would have done a lot more to stop them coming if they did."

"So, now we're stuck with Anders and Neria missing and the Templars on the doorsteps of the keep threatening to police _all _warden mages _all the time," _Caron said, and there was no mistaking the anger in his usually cheerful voice. "I will not have it. The First Warden will not have it. We must find them."

Leliana stepped forward. "I shall find them," she said softly. Alistair nodded at her, then at Caron, who's face clouded for a moment, then cleared.

"Leliana?"

"You remember me, Commander?"

"You are impossible to forget, my dear," Leliana gave her silvery laugh.

"Let me accompany her," Fiona said, suddenly and forcefully.

"What?" Alistair turned to the woman, sudden fear constricting his chest. "No. No, absolutely not..."

"I don't believe you have any authority over my actions, your majesty," Fiona said, arching an eyebrow. Alistair winced.

"It's too dangerous..."

"Alistair," Fiona's voice was softer this time. "I know Orlais - just as well as Leliana here. And we don't know what sort of state they'll be in - they could use some healing - Leliana might need healing. It would be better if I went with her."

"Anders is the best healer I've ever come across," Alistair said.

"Which probably means they'll be in a lot of trouble if _he's _the one who gets hurt," Fiona said reasonably.

Leliana turned to him, a small smile on her face. "I could certainly use some skilled assistance," she said.

"But.." she didn't know. Leliana didn't know about Fiona. And he couldn't tell her. He looked at Miranda in wordless appeal. His wife smiled at him, but said nothing. _Damn you, _he thought. He'd make her pay for that later.

"Good," Caron was saying. "I won't risk sending any more wardens out - the Chantry are watching us too carefully, but if you leave with the King and Queen, Fiona, you probably won't be noticed."

"Thank you , Caron."

"You'll have your pick of our supplies," Caron continued. "I know you think they're your friends, your majesties, but these are _our _people. We wardens look after our own."

Alistair managed a smile. "Oh, I know," he said. He looked at Miranda, who gave him a hopeful smile, then at Fiona and Leliana, whose heads were already together, speaking in rapid Orlesian.

It seemed it was out of his hands.


	34. Chapter 34

The cave was difficult to climb to and sufficiently deserted, but Anders couldn't stop pacing to the entrance and looking out every few minutes. It was probably because it was either that or look at Neria - still in cat form, still unconscious. His healing seemed to have taken, the wound was no longer visible and her heartbeat was strong and steady, but she had not woken since they'd fled and he was desperately worried. The battle had been more than ten hours ago.

He'd cast haste repeatedly as they ran through the city, sticking to back alleys where he could to avoid the ever present Templars. He'd been lucky - the luck that had never held in all his escapes from Kinloch Hold, that he kept expecting to fail now.

_You didn't escape in the end. You never escaped, truly. You were _rescued.

Eventually exhaustion overcame him and he lay next to Neria and slept. There were wards at the cave entrance - they were dry and safe in the warm summer heat, but his dreams were full of nameless dread and disappointment.

When he woke he felt cloth under his hands rather than fur and he opened his eyes to see Neria next to him, long lashes resting on pale cheeks - dawn light illuminating her enough for him to see she was whole and healthy, if not conscious. He almost wept, but took a deep breath instead and reached out with his healing.

The sword cut had done more damage than he'd thought. Although the wound was healed her body had shut down in defense - she would no doubt sleep for a few more hours at least. He sighed, letting go of his worry for her, and pulled her closer into his arms. There was a difference to this escape. He wasn't alone this time. She was here.

When he woke again it was fully light and Neria was sitting looking at him with a strange, blank expression on her face.

"Neria?"

She shook her head. "She still sleeps, Anders," she said.

He blinked. _"Justice?"_

"Indeed. Do not worry, she will return soon. But I wished to talk with you first." Anders swallowed. The last time Justice had inhabited Neria it had been.. extremely frustrating. Helpful, yes, but desperately annoying at times. He sincerely hoped he wasn't present for an extended stay.

"How did you get in there _this _time?"

"We are connected," Justice said. "I can come and go at will, should it be necessary."

"That's just a little bit creepy, Justice." _Actually, extremely bloody creepy. _

"I would never come without her permission," the fade spirit continued. Anders cocked an eyebrow. "I would also be certain to inform you, Anders. I know how you feel about intimacies while I am present."

"And you never did learn boundaries about _talking _about that sort of thing, did you," Anders muttered. "Why are you here now?"

"She was wounded - I came to help."

"Well, it's nice to know you're still around, any way," Anders said. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I wanted to let you know they are coming to look for you," Justice said. "The Commander has sent one of her former companions - a bard from Orlais. The Templars do not have your phylacteries, they will not be able to locate you easily. If you remain here I can lead the bard to your location."

"How?"

"The mage, Fiona is accompanying her. I shall guide her during her dreams."

"Right. Good." Fiona was steady, and competent. And Leliana was extremely good at finding things - from what he remembered the Commander telling him. "How do you know all this?"

"Your cat was in the vicinity when they were discussing plans," Justice said. "I happened to be..."

"Pounce? You can inhabit Pounce as well?"

"On occasion I have done so, yes."

"On occasion? _Which _occasions? That's my _cat _you're talking about... "

"I assure you, Anders, the cat does not object. He barely registers my presence. And on occasion I have been able to channel power through him to assist you in battle."

"Wait.. _you're _the one who's..." Anders shook his head, trying to clear the information overload. "Ugh. Well. Thank you, Justice. We appreciate it, truly. Can I have Neria back now?"

"She still sleeps. But I will depart, yes."

"How can I be certain you're not lurking in there all the time?"

Neria's expression grew pained. "Anders, I am the spirit of _Justice."_

He narrowed his eyes. "Yes, but you've been hanging around us for too long. I don't entirely trust your motives."

"Ask Neria. She can feel when I am here. And before you ask, I cannot enter other humanoids - I do not share a link with them as I do with Neria."

"What about Pounce?"

"Cats are different. They are vulnerable to possession, surely you know this?"

He looked away, remembering Mr Wiggums. "Yes. I suppose I do. I'm sorry, Justice. It's just a little bit much to take in, that's all."

"Remain here if you can. I shall direct the mage and the bard to you. It should not take long."

"I know I excel at finding hiding places," Anders said, "but there's a chance we'll be discovered, in which case by the time they get here we'll be gone..."

"I will endeavour to keep track of you," Justice said. "Now I must depart, she is waking."

"She'd probably like to say hello, you know."

"I shall leave her an impression of my visit."

Neria's head flopped forward for a second and Anders lunged toward her, worried that she would fall, but she caught herself before he could and blinked a few times.

"Justice?" she said, and there was a plaintive note in her voice that touched him.

"He's gone," he said. "He's going to help. Maker, Neria, I was so worried..." he completed his movement and clasped her in his arms, cradling her small form against his. She sighed against him.

"Was I hurt?" she asked after a moment. "I remember a sword cut.." she pressed her hand to her side, where there was a gash in her robe.

He nodded. "Healed up now," he said softly, kissing her ear.

"Where are we?"

"A cave about twenty miles out of Val Royeaux," he replied. "Justice says if we stay put Fiona and Leliana will find us - they're already looking apparently."

"What about the Templars?"

"Well, we can assume _they _are also looking. Without our phylacteries they'll be looking blind though, which is a relief."

"Are we safe here?" her voice was small, vulnerable and he pulled back a little to look at her face, wondering what (apart from _everything) _was wrong. She was usually stronger than this. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth and her dark eyes were glistening and he realised suddenly that what was second nature to him was totally alien to her. He'd spent years like this - in caves, dirty inns, back alleys and haylofts, trying to dodge the inevitable capture. _Her _escape had been legitimate and the Templars _she _knew had been protectors rather than hunters. Templars like Cullen had been before the rebellion.

He wondered what she would have made of Biff and Rylock and her buddies, shuddering to think of what she might have suffered at their hands if she'd been in his place on a few notable occasions. A few of the Templars who had captured him were as far removed from Cullen's nervous kindness as it was possible to get.

"Hey, we'll be fine," he said, stroking her hair and squeezing her a little tighter. "I've set wards at the entrance, no one's getting in here without us knowing. We just have to keep our heads and wait."

She chuckled helplessly. "I've never been good at waiting." He grinned and started kissing the tips of her ears. One good thing about being stuck here, they were in private, and they had _no _demands on their time. His mind started going to all sorts of delightful places, thinking of what they could do while they waited.

Her voice interrupted his reverie. "I ah.. Anders I saw Irving fall. Before we left."

He stopped, remembering the rush of mana he'd received. "Yes," he said softly. "And Greagior fell too, defending him."

She sighed and reached up to stroke his cheek. "I'm so sorry," she said.

He shrugged. "He was an old man. And I'm sure Greagior would have preferred to go the way he did rather than locked up in a cell going mad."

"Don't you wish..." she started, but he put his fingers on her lips, tracing them and stopping what she was about to say.

"It's not important," he said, stroking her lip with his thumb, his hand trailing over her cheek to cup her the back of her head and pull her forward for a kiss. But he could see the old man in his mind's eye, his last act to give... _his son.. _a gift that would help him escape. The irony was not lost on him.

Neria captured his attention then, and he spent the next little while trying to pretend that the last twenty-four hours had never happened.


	35. Chapter 35

Fiona found she was deeply suspicious of the red haired woman - perhaps because she knew enough about bards to distrust the front of fluttery girlishness - perhaps simply because she was so much younger. Yet there was no doubt she exuded an air of competence that had everything to do with the worn drakeskin leathers she wore and the polished daggers she wielded. In her chainmail and skirt, Fiona felt positively frumpy.

Alistair trusted her. That much was obvious. She couldn't be certain about her feelings for her son - other than an overwhelming desire to _protect _that if she was honest with herself had never deserted her, even when she'd handed the child to Maric. How others around him reacted - Miranda, Anders, Neria - that was how she had to judge him for now. Trying to judge him herself was too painful, not when she could see another man standing in his place, for all his darker eyes and hair.

The smile was what hurt the most, she'd pinned down. It was Maric to the core and the boy had never even _met _his father...

They were to leave immediately - Anders and Neria had gained almost a day on them while Fiona slept off the effects of the templar smites. Queen Miranda didn't seem too anxious that they would be captured in that time. "Even his worst escape attempt lasted a week, and that was when they _had _his phylactery," she'd said. "He'll be lying low. An abandoned farm or a cave network or even a forest if there's one nearby - the Dalish took him in for a few weeks once."

Fiona had been surprised at that - the Dalish were so prickly - but maybe they were different in Ferelden. One thing she _was _certain of - Anders didn't know Orlais and its surrounds as well as she did - or as well as her new companion. They would find them.

Leliana was chattering about shoes as they left the compound and Fiona did her best to block out the noise.

"It is so nice to speak Orlesian again," she was saying and Fiona grunted. After years of hearing nothing but the harsh, gutteral tongue of the Anderfels, Orlesian was a nice change, but it still had unpleasant connotations that the noises and smells of Val Royeaux did nothing to assuage.

She was just about to turn to Leliana and ask her to be quiet when she spotted him. In the shadows of a building, hunched over himself and trying so hard not to be noticed that he stood out like a sore thumb. Vaguely familiar. Fiona nudged Leliana, who didn't look at her but simply nodded and continued to speak in exactly the same tone she had been using to discuss the intricacies of lace on ball gowns a few seconds before.

"He's been following us since we left the warden compound," she said.

"Why?"

"I know him from the Tower in Ferelden," Leliana continued. "Cullen - the one they say will now be Knight Commander."

"A Templar?"

"Indeed," Leliana glanced casually behind her, giggling girlishly and leaning to Fiona's ear as though to share a confidence. "I do not believe he wishes us harm. He may simply be keeping tabs on the mages who leave the compound. If he still follows us once we leave the city we shall have words."

"Words?"

The bard flashed her a dazzling grin. "Yes, _words."_

At the gates of Val Royeaux Leliana motioned Fiona to a hiding place and then placed her helm over her bright hair and lounged casually against the east wall. Her stance changed - she went from being a sleek, dangerous and exotic woman to a scruffy mercenary for hire so quickly that Fiona had to blink to be certain it was the same woman. Even the drakeskin no longer looked expensive and well cared for - something about the way she stood made it look ill-fitting and cheap. Fiona was suitably impressed - the woman was obviously skilled.

From where she hid in some bushes to the side of the road she had a clear view of both Leliana and the gate. When Cullen came through he was walking awkwardly and Fiona realised he'd been injured - in the side by the way he was carrying himself. And no one had healed him. She had no way of knowing whether the injury had been acquired fighting with the Templars or against them, although she thought if he'd been in the company of the Templars of Orlais the least they could have done for him would be some healing.

Leliana approached him as soon as he exited the gates and the two of them had words. Halfway through the conversation Leliana straightened and removed her helm and Fiona took this as a signal that she could also approach.

The Templar was twisting his hands in front of him and looked far too nervous and uncertain to possibly be a candidate for a Knight Commander. When he spoke, however, his voice was steady and calm and oddly, reminded her of Anders.

"I need to come with you," he said. "I've been telling the lady here..."

"Leliana," she said, her eyes twinkling.

"I know Neria... and Anders. I... have something for them."

Fiona cocked her eyebrow and looked at Leliana, who shrugged. "How do we know you weren't on the side of the Grand Divine in the Council?" she said. "You could be leading your fellow Templars to them."

Cullen's face hardened a little at that. "If I were, I have no doubt your friend here would be able to tell," he said. Leliana smirked a little at that and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Certainly you would not be able to lead them to us through any conventional means," she said. "But you Templars have other methods of finding people, have you not?"

"They all require phylacteries," he replied shortly. "And Anders and Neria's were moved once they became wardens. Only Knight Commander Greagior knew where."

Fiona whistled under her breath. _That _was interesting. It made her think more highly of the Ferelden circle - that they recognised the threat mage wardens were to the Chantry - and that they came down in favour of those mages. In the Anderfels it was no problem - the wardens were powerful enough that mages were recruited as a matter of course, but she knew in other countries it was far more difficult.

"So does that mean _you _know where they are now?"

He looked more nervous at that. Greagior left me instructions before he started... before we left for the council. I don't know where they are now but I will when we return."

"So why should we bring you with us if you're not going to be any use?" Fiona said shortly. "I can think of better things to do with my time than travel with templars."

Cullen's composure broke. "Please, I have to go with you," he said. "The First Enchanter... before he died he made me promise to find them. To help them. It's the least I can do. I have to make it up to them.."

Leliana frowned and Fiona caught her eye. "Make _what _up to them?"

The Templar buried his face in his hands. "This is all my fault. I... _I_ told them they were blood mages. The Grand Divine commanded her Templars because of my word."

Leliana wisely decided it was a conversation they needed to be having on the move rather than in the middle of the road outside the largest city in Orlais. Cullen regained his composure quickly, but he still thrummed with nervous energy.

Leliana didn't seem surprised by Cullen's words. "Quite frankly I am surprised the circle in Ferelden ever trusted you with command," she said harshly as they walked. "When we left you you were a broken man."

Cullen's lip twisted. "I won't deny it," he said. "You know what it was like in the Tower - you saw what they did. I don't believe there are many would have come through that unscathed."

"So why _were _you appointed Greagior's successor?" Fiona asked.

"As a direct order of the Grand Divine," Cullen said. "After the blight I sent her a report on what had happened at the Tower. It was sent on my own initiative, you understand. I... I told her I thought Irving and the other mages were abominations, biding their time, waiting for the right moment to strike. You must understand.. what I went through... what they did.. I honestly believed it was true."

"You thought they were all abominations?" Fiona said. Cullen nodded.

"Irving and Greagior knew nothing of it, at least, nothing until she responded." He laughed bitterly. "Greagior wanted to know why the Grand Divine was insisting I become his successor. When I told him about my report he laughed."

"Laughed?"

"Then he assigned me to be Neria's personal Templar. He told me if I was so sure she was an abomination I'd have to prove it. I... I ended up believing I was wrong."

Fiona grimaced. Although she knew the generalities of what had happened at Kinloch Hold she'd never heard details of what the mages and Templars had endured. From Cullen's face and the way his hands shook when he referred to it, she was certain she didn't _want _to know any more.

"I think I begin to see something of Irving and Greagior's plan," Leliana said, eyeing Cullen. "Very clever of them, to turn you to their side."

"They appointed me Greagior's successor," Cullen agreed, nodding at the bard. "They wanted to placate the Grand Divine, make her believe that when Greagior retired she would have a loyal man heading the Ferelden Circle."

"That all changed, of course, when the call for the council came," Fiona said.

He nodded. "Indeed."

"So what is it you have for Neria and Anders?" Leliana asked, curiosity blazing in her eyes.

Cullen eyed Fiona. Leliana hadn't been there when Anders had revealed the relationship between them, but she had. "I imagine it's something to do with the proposal, Leliana," she said. The bard raised an eyebrow, obviously not satisfied, but willing to play along for the present.

"Documents, yes," Cullen said. "I haven't seen them myself. But I assume Irving left instructions for what was to be done at the circle in his absence. Torrin is slated to succeed him as First Enchanter, but for various reasons we'd prefer that didn't happen."

"He's a Loyalist?" Fiona said.

Cullen nodded. "Aequitarian, but Irving suspected that was a front. He never would tell us which way he was going to vote. The Aequitarians were mostly behind us, even though they usually vote with the Loyalists. I know there were some pretty heated arguments between the two groups when the proposal was first raised."

They travelled in silence until they were in open country. She and Leliana had poured over maps of the area and pinpointed some likely locations Anders' might think had good cover, but it truly was touch and go - they'd be picking a random direction and hoping. And there was no doubt other Templars would be doing the same.

Fiona stopped suddenly, feeling a strange pull in her senses that had nothing to do with darkspawn. A connection to the fade, she realised. She often felt the feather light touches of demons - all mages did - but this was subtly different. There was no malevolence, only a gentle calling. A vague sense of direction accompanied it and she called ahead to Leliana.

It was better than picking a direction at random, after all.


	36. Chapter 36

When she woke the next morning it took her a moment to remember where they were. Anders had one arm flung over her middle and was snoring lightly. She shivered, looking at the roof of the cave. It was risky, both of them sleeping at once, but Anders had set up perimeter warnings (_not _magic ones - the Templars would simply dispel them) and assured her that they both needed their strength. "Besides, the Orlesian Templars don't know me," he said, then he'd chuckled. "And they have no way of finding out my methods. All the Templars who _used _to come after me are dead now, thanks to the Commander."

She eased herself out from under his arm and moved to the cave entrance. They were quite high up - the cave was a small depression in the rock that could only be reached by climbing, and the entrance afforded a view over the treetops of the surrounding forest. Neria had no idea where they were in relation to Val Royeaux. She shivered and hugged herself despite the heat. Anders was here, she had to keep reminding herself. She wasn't on the run alone. But she still felt lost and hurt.

She couldn't see how they were going to get around being accused of blood magic. There was no surefire way of proving that they weren't, short of another harrowing, and she got the impression the Grand Divine wasn't going to let them attempt one before she had them killed. Their deaths were essential for her plan to succeed.

She looked back at Anders, sleeping peacefully, the sharp line of his jaw and the golden tangle that was his hair, and her heart ached suddenly. _Why did we think we could do this? _she thought. She also cursed their instinct to fight back - if they hadn't would the Grand Divine have been so quick to label them blood mages? Now they would never know.

Anders stirred in his sleep and she made her way back to him, sitting down to lean against the wall of the cavern. Her side ached and she was hungry and thirsty and worried.

_I am directing the mage Fiona to your location, _she felt the voice and sat up straighter.

_Justice?_

_Neria. I am sorry to intrude..._

_No, no it's lovely to... I'm glad you're here. I missed you. I had no idea you were still alive._

_I was... lessened by the destruction of my forest, but it is difficult to kill an idea. _Justice's mental voice was amused. _I suspect that should my form be completely obliterated some essence of me would survive. Is the mage Anders well?_

She looked back at him again. _I think so, _she said.

_He dreams of the Circle Tower. Of being imprisoned. _

She winced. _Well, if we're caught that will be the least of his problems._

_He also dreams of his cat. Human dreams are very strange. I can see why demons are so fascinated by them._

Neria picked at a loose thread in her robes and rested her chin on her hand. _Is there any way you can warn us if the Templars are approaching? _she asked.

_I am sorry, _Justice replied. _I cannot. _

Anders stirred. _He is waking, _Justice said. _I shall leave you now. The mage Fiona and her companions should be here by sunset. _

_Thank you Justice._

He blinked a couple of times before he sat up, running a hand through the tangle that his hair had become and grimacing. "Argh. Mother would die if she could see it like this."

Neria couldn't help it, she grinned. "Your mother?"

"She told me a story once about her brother cutting a spider out of the wreck his hair had become. I _like _spiders, but I have no desire to have one nesting in my hair."

She cocked a finger. "Come here, then, messy."

She made him sit in front of her and got up on her knees so she could reach his hair and pulled it loose of its tie. He let out a sigh of contentment as she started to work out the tangles with her fingers, enjoying the feel of the smooth strands and the simple comfort of touching him.

"Kind of like a holiday, isn't it?" he asked.

She snorted. "For you, maybe," she replied. "I don't tend to book extended stays in caves."

He grimaced. "Not fond of caves, myself," he said. "Probably because I've spent such a lot of time in them."

"Before you escaped for good.." she said hesitantly, "..how long did you manage to stay out of the circle?"

"The longest I ever managed was just after the rebellion - during the Blight," he said. "Nearly two years."

Her hands stilled in his hair, contemplating. He wriggled a little, trying to get her to continue what she'd been doing and she chuckled. "How did you survive? What did you do?"

He tilted his head back to see her face and his eyes were kind. "It's not going to happen to us, Neria," he said. "Fiona and Leliana will find us first." She bit her lip and shook her head.

"I'm curious, that's all," she said. "I mean... I know why you didn't go back to Highever, but you must have done something to survive..."

"Healing," he said, closing his eyes and sounding pained. "A _lot _of people needed healing during the Blight. I spent a lot of time near West Hill before I made it to Amaranthine. The darkspawn... well let's just say when Commander Cousland offered me the chance to be a Grey Warden I said yes pretty damn quickly. And not just because it would save me from Rylock."

"How did they catch you, that time?"

"Spent too long in Amaranthine," he said. "The Templars were back to their old strengths - I'd gotten lazy during the Blight and I wasn't careful enough."

She continued working at the tangles in his hair in silence until it was smooth and sleek, and then because it made her feel better. He looked like he was going to sleep again and she envied him - there was no way she could close her eyes.

* * *

A few hours later all they could really think about was how hungry they were. Even if they had the inclination to hunt there was no way they could risk a fire. Neria was increasingly snappy and Anders eventually shot her with rejuvenation magic until she started to giggle instead.

"Not my finest moment," he said to her as she clamped her hands over her lips to stifle the laughter. "But you're _dreadful _when you have low blood sugar."

She grinned. "Sorry. I've always been like that. What did you _put _in that rejuvenation spell, by the way? It's like..."

"It's my personal claustrophobia remedy," Anders said. "Don't tell anyone."

"We need to get outside for a little while," she said.

"Not possible," he said. "The ledge outside is fully visible from below."

She felt a surge of irritation break through the happy haze of Anders' spell. "Maker damn them all," she swore. He caught her arms and turned her to face him.

"Neria..."

"Don't say we're going to be all right," her voice cracked and she felt the press of tears behind her eyes. She shook her head angrily. "Maker's balls, I don't know what's wrong with me!"

He brushed a tear away from her cheek. "I do," he said softly.

* * *

Varo picked up the scent just outside the gates of Val Royeaux. Marcus knew the mabari would, but the Templars accompanying him didn't seem to think much of the dog's abilities and jeered at him when he told them which direction to go. He shrugged. "The Knight Commander gave me this job," he said. "If you want to go your own way, be my guest. I'll find them first, though."

Ser Etienne, the leader, was the only one who spoke the common tongue fluently enough to understand him, and the Templar glared at him for a few moments before silencing his men and ordering them to follow. Marcus spoke perfect Orlesian, how could he not, being in the country for as long as he had, but he never spoke it unless he absolutely had to. They could force him to live here, but they couldn't force him to assimilate.

Varo barked a short, impatient bark and Marcus stilled him with a hand on his broad head.

"Fereldens and their dogs," Etienne sneered, but he waved the elf on and Marcus allowed himself a small smile of triumph as he allowed Varo to take off in the direction they wanted. It had been lucky the elf woman had left her staff behind, otherwise they wouldn't have had anything for the Mabari to get a scent from and the Templars would have been searching blind.

Privately, Marcus hoped they were smart enough to have covered their scent in some way, although he doubted it. There was no way the two blood mages (for that was what he had been told they were) would know the Templars had access to a mabari tracker and his handler. The contempt most Orlesians had for Fereldens and their dogs was too well known.

He wondered why two Ferelden blood mages were even in the city. Something to do with that mages council, he reckoned, although why malificarum would be bothering to attend was beyond him. He'd heard rumours that the Grey Wardens were attending this time too, but news didn't filter down to the servants quarters at the chantry very often and he was rarely allowed out except in the company of Templars such as these.

He grimaced as they walked, Varo happy to have a scent to follow, but Marcus couldn't help dwell on what Varo was leading them to. He didn't envy the elf girl when these Templars caught up with her. He'd only been on one other retrieval with Etienne, but he privately thought the man was a monster.

_Why did I ever leave the Alienage? _he thought to himself, not for the first time.

* * *

"How is it you know which way to go?" Cullen asked Fiona finally. "It seems... somewhat unusual."

Fiona raised her eyebrow at Cullen. "I think a fade spirit is directing me," she said bluntly. The Templar looked shocked and Fiona raised her wrists to him mockingly. "Want to clamp me in irons or smite me?"

"I... ah..." the beautiful red haired bard was grinning at him in a way that reminded him of Neria when they'd been in the tower. It made him angry and regretful all at once. _We have to find them..._ "Of course not," he said, finding confidence again. "Fade spirits are not the same as demons."

Fiona snorted and kept walking. "Most Templars don't bother to make the distinction," she said.

Cullen thought of Wynne. "I know the difference," he said.

She stopped and looked at him appraisingly. Cullen shifted, the clear hazel eyes were disconcerting in their intelligence - and completely cold. "Well, perhaps you're not entirely useless after all," she said.

They stood for a few moments, looking at each other, before Leliana's voice urged them onwards.

He took a deep breath as he watched the elf woman walk ahead of him. _Andraste guide our steps, _he prayed fervently. _Please, Neria, let us reach you first._


	37. Chapter 37

When the warning went off Anders had been expecting it for hours. Neria had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep - partially from worry and partially from the small amount of sedative magic he'd slipped into the rejuvenation spell he'd given her, and he'd spent a long time simply cradling her head in his lap and praying to Andraste - a habit he'd gotten out of in recent years but that was surprisingly easy to slip back into.

The crash of stones was far enough away that they'd have at least twenty minutes before whoever it was could come upon them. Anders gently shook Neria awake and sent her to the back of the cavern to start on their illusion spell, before creeping to the mouth of the cave. He couldn't risk going outside, but he could risk listening.

Years of being on the run had taught him the importance of hearing as a sense. He strained his ears, listening to the regular sounds of the forest, searching for anything that was out of place...

_There..._

The chink of metal had his heart sinking into his boots. Not Fiona and Leliana then - they didn't wear full plate. It was the next sound that had him panicking though.

The soft huffing pants of a dog.

"Maker's _cock," _he snarled, dashing back into the cave. A dog would render their illusion defense completely useless.

"What is it?" she said, dropping her hands and stopping her casting.

"Save your mana," he said. "They've got a mabari. We're going to have to fight."

* * *

When the Templar stumbled and pulled down the pile of rocks near the cliff face he _knew _it was a warning device. These mages were _good. _They didn't rely overly on their magic (the templars had been casting cleanse at regular intervals throughout the whole trip - neutralizing any magical defenses). He didn't say anything though. If they were too stupid to know a warning when they saw one let them get blasted with magic for all he cared.

Varo was leading them towards a darkened spot in the cliff wall that Marcus suspected was a cave. Truly, he didn't think they needed him any longer and he caught up with Etienne to let him know.

"They're in the cave," he said to the lead Templar. "Varo and I need to stay back now."

Etienne raised an eyebrow at him. "And a coward as well?" he said. "Why am I not surprised?"

Marcus rolled his eyes and held out his arms. "No weapons, remember?" he said. "You people don't allow us to carry them. _In case you'd forgotten."_

"Not that we'd need your help in any case," Etienne said. "Very well then. Keep your pet and cower out of the way while we do our work."

Marcus gratefully slipped back into the cover of the trees, finding a spot that afforded a good view of the cave entrance. The templars conferred with each other briefly, before separating out into a semi-circle at the foot of the cliff. Two then started the climb up to the cave entrance.

They didn't even get halfway before magic flared. They were suddenly sliding on a surface slick with grease, grease that ignited in flame before the Templars had a chance to react. Marcus saw the blue light of cleansing auras wash over the area, but it was too late for the two lead Templars, who clattered into boneless heaps at the bottom of the cliff. Two figures then emerged from the cave, one wielding a staff and the other, surprisingly, a sword. They made it to the foot of the cliff where the first two templars had fallen before the fight was joined.

It was short and brutal. The man managed to kill one of the Templars, despite almost certainly being drained of mana, but the woman was beaten down to the ground almost immediately. Marcus' heart twisted when he saw she was small and dark haired.. _so much like... _but the man stood over her fallen form, grabbing the staff she had been using and wielding both with a competency that shocked him.

It wasn't enough though. The Templars hit him with a smite and the sword and staff fell from nerveless fingers as he sank to his knees.

The Templars lowered their weapons and Etienne removed his helm. From where he was Marcus could see the cruel twist of his mouth, but couldn't hear the words he said to make the mage on his knees lunge forward in sudden fury. Two Templars grabbed his arms, however, and held him steady as Etienne turned his attention to the elf woman, who was stirring slightly on the ground where she had fallen.

Next to him, Varo had started a low growl. The girl was too familiar - to both of them. Etienne was unbuckling his breastplate - removing his purple fringed skirt. The blond mage was struggling and shouting.

As Etienne pulled the girl to her feet and put his hand to the laces on her robe Marcus snapped. His grip on Varo's collar loosened and the mabari leapt forward, barking with the exaltation of battle. Marcus knew he'd probably doomed them both, but he pulled his knife from its concealed sheath in his boot and lunged forward just behind his hound.

* * *

_No, no no no no... _he couldn't think anything other than that one word. _No, _as the Templar sneered at him, _no, _as he stripped down to his undershirt and breeches, _no, no, no, _as he pulled Neria to her feet, her head still wobbling on uncertain shoulders. The livid bruise on her cheek from the gauntleted fist that had hit her probably meant she didn't know what was about to happen and the healer in him was desperately worried that there'd been internal damage - but _that _voice was small, so very, very small in a towering furnace of rage that he could do _nothing _with...

The two templars holding him were laughing at his struggles. The Templar who had Neria grabbed her chin in his fingers and pulled her mouth to his in a complete mockery of a kiss...

And was bowled over flat by a gigantic snarling mass of fur and teeth. Neria crumpled to the ground and Anders could see that it was a mabari that had attacked - one of the biggest he'd ever seen. Without his armour the Templar didn't stand a chance and there was a wet squelching noise as the dog ripped out the man's throat with brutal efficiency.

The templars holding Anders had stopped laughing at the first rush of the attack, but the dog didn't seem interested in them, instead moving to Neria's still form. Anders' heart clenched in his chest and he struggled again to no avail - the Templars' grip on his arms hadn't slackened - but the dog didn't attack Neria. Instead he snuffled at her and whined a short, plaintive whine. Neria moved a little and the dog panted, licking her face with a bloodstained tongue.

Anders didn't have time to wonder what was going on before the Templar beside him screamed in agony and pitched forward, releasing Anders' arm to clutch at his leg. Never one to waste an opportunity Anders scooped up his sword with his suddenly freed arm and swung it up between his final captor's legs, aiming for, and hitting, the gap between cuisses and breastplate. Blood spurted over his arm and hand and the man screamed, releasing him. Anders didn't hesitate, but killed both Templars where they lay. He only wished he could kill the one the dog had got to as well.

Once they were dispatched he ran to Neria's side. The dog sat on its haunches and panted at him and Anders ignored it, only concerned for her.

She hadn't been able to transform in time - that was why she'd been helpless in the attack. He'd wanted to put her in a forcefield but she'd flat out refused. Maker _damn_ him if he'd killed her because of that. He was completely drained of mana. He couldn't even use his healing sense. Neria's eyes were open, but unfocused, and a thin trail of blood leaked from one nostril. He was about to scream in frustration when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Here," a soft voice - with a Ferelden accent. The cool glass of a vial was pressed into his hand. Anders looked down to see the familiar blue of lyrium, then up into the face of a young elven man. "They always carry some with them," he said. Anders didn't have time to express his gratitude with anything but a look. He hoped the man would understand as he downed the lyrium in one gulp and started work.


	38. Chapter 38

It was obvious from the moment they came to the cliff what had happened. Cullen gave a small strangled cry when he saw Anders crouched over Neria's still form - not even noticing the elven man and the mabari who were there as well. He rushed forward to her side, falling to his knees and calling her name.

"Get him away from here _now," _Anders didn't bother to even look at him. His hands were glowing blue from healing magic and Cullen's face fell as he took in Neria's pale skin and the trail of blood coming from one nostril before an elven man was pulling him away. Fiona took his place, her own blue light flaring.

"Anders, you're drained, let me..."

"I've got this."

_"Anders."_

The blond mage looked up at the older elf and grimaced, before nodding and standing. Fiona took over, leaning over Neria's still form. Anders, on the other hand, looked ready to kill someone. Had already killed several people, from the looks of things.

"What's wrong with her?" Cullen said. Leliana stepped between Anders and the templar, sensing the blond mage was right on the edge of violence.

"Isn't it sodding _obvious _what happened, Cullen? The templars got here first." His voice was cracking and he kept looking back towards Neria and Fiona.

"I am sure she is very capable, Anders," Leliana said. "I'm so sorry we didn't get here earlier..."

"They had a sodding _mabari..."_

"His name is Varo," a soft, musical voice interrupted and Leliana noted the dark haired elven man standing off to the side with his hand buried in the enormous dog's fur. "I'm so sorry, ser... but..."

Anders waved his hand. "It's not _your _fault. If it weren't for you..."

"They would never have found you in the first place," he finished.

Anders made a visible effort to reign in his feelings. Leliana was impressed - the mage had never struck her as someone capable of much restraint - but then she had only met him a few times. "If you hadn't helped when you did we'd both be... Andraste's arse what nearly happened..." Anders pressed his fingers to his eyes and took several deep breaths. "You helped us. Why?"

"Varo didn't like what Etienne was about to do," the man said. He was small and dark haired - delicate features like all of his kind, soft voiced and deferential.

"Who are you?" Leliana asked.

"My name is Marcus," he said. "I'm Ferelden - from Highever."

Anders eyed him curiously. "Highever you say?"

"I left for Denerim during the Blight," he said. "And came to Orlais as a refugee. Stupid mistake that one."

"Let me guess, once you got here they wouldn't let you go back?" Fiona's voice was grim as she worked.

Marcus nodded. "An elf with a mabari? Too useful to them. Passage home was never an option."

"And they say slavery doesn't exist here any more," Fiona muttered.

"Don't tell me you couldn't have stopped your hound if you wanted to," Anders said. "Why _did _you help us?"

Marcus looked down at Neria and Fiona. "What's her name?" he asked, and his tone was forlorn.

"Neria," Anders said. "Her name's Neria."

Marcus' lip twisted. "Even her name... Varo... Varo thought she was my sister. That's why he wanted to help her so badly."

"Your sister?"

"Nesiara," he breathed the name. "She's long dead, I'm afraid." The elf took a deep breath. "She was my twin. No one ever knew which of us Varo bonded to - until she left for her wedding and Varo stayed with me. If only he'd gone with her, perhaps she'd still be alive."

Leliana reached out a hand to touch the elf's shoulder and Anders turned his attention back to Fiona, who had finished whatever healing magic she'd been doing. Her face was hard, but then, it nearly always was.

"I've done what I could," she said. "I don't suppose you need my diagnosis?"

Anders pressed his lips together and shook his head. Leliana looked at him questioningly. "There's been bruising to the brain," he said. "I reduced the pressure as much as I could, but there's no way of knowing if damage has been done until she wakes up." He bit his lip, then drew in a shuddering breath. _"If _she wakes up."

"There's no more pressure," Fiona said. "I had to do very little, Anders. I think she'll be all right."

"Maker damn them," Anders muttered. Leliana knelt by the corpse of the man who was significantly missing his throat.

"Why isn't he wearing his armour?" Anders caught her eye with a grim expression on his face that explained a lot of his repressed fury. "Oh," she said. "Somehow any sympathy I may have felt for them has completely disappeared."

Cullen was standing with his arms clenched around his chest. "How are we going to move her?" he asked.

"We should camp here for the night," Fiona said. "Ideally she shouldn't be moved at all. And you need food and rest as well, Anders. Sit with her. We'll get things organised."

* * *

She was so still. He took her hand in his and felt its warmth - some reassurance - but head injuries were so dicey... If he closed his eyes he could still see how easily she'd been felled and it was lucky he had no mana or the entire campsite would be on fire with the force of his anger.

He looked over to where Marcus was talking with Fiona and Leliana. Part of him was angry with the elf, too, but he knew the man had no choice in the matter. That he had allowed the mabari to help them in the end had given Neria and he a chance.

His anger was mostly directed at himself. He should have hidden them better - should have stayed on the move rather than stopping the way he had - should have set up better perimeter defenses - should have done _something _to prevent what had happened...

He felt Neria stir and realised he was gripping her hand too tightly. Any movement was good, though, and he called to Fiona. The older mage came quickly and dropped to her knees next to Neria, who's eyes fluttered open.

"Anders?" she whispered. He leant forward so she could see him and gently placed his hand on her forehead.

"I'm here my love."

"What happened?"

"Do you remember where we are?"

She shook her head, then winced. "My head feels big," she said. He smiled.

"Well it's not. It's Neria sized."

"Anders?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"The Templars found us. You were hurt, but we're all right now."

"My head feels big."

A cold fist of fear squeezed his heart. "I know, my love," he said, looking up at Fiona, who was biting her lip. "You need rest. Close your eyes." She obeyed him and Anders got to his feet shakily, stumbling away from her to stand at the edge of the camp, chest heaving. The litany had started up again in his head. _No, no, no, no. _He felt a gentle hand on his arm.

"Anders it's not necessarily a bad sign," Fiona said. "She's only just regained consciousness..."

"I know," he forced out through gritted teeth. "I _know... _it's just.." He looked down at the older elven woman. "What's the use of all this magic if I can't help her?" he said helplessly.

Fiona squeezed his arm where her hand was resting. "She's elven. And she's a warden. We have advantages others don't. I've seen wardens with this sort of injury recover when no one else could. We'll get her back to Val Royeaux."

"Andraste's blood, Fiona! If we get back to Val Royeaux at the very least they'll make us go through another Harrowing. She needs to be at her _best."_

"Let's just wait and see what happens tomorrow," she said. "If there's still a problem, I'm sure we can arrange something. The wardens will hide you until she's ready."

He looked back at her. She was asleep again, no outward sign of her injury on her pale skin. The mabari was sitting next to her again, head resting on his paws. As he watched, the animal seemed to sense his gaze and turned its massive head, fixing Anders with liquid brown eyes full of compassion.


	39. Chapter 39

She didn't hurt, not as such, but there was certainly something not right when she blinked her eyes open. She was outside, for one, and the last she remembered she'd been in a cave. There was a warm body next to hers, but it wasn't Anders - no, _this _one had fur, and all over, not just at the shoulders like those ridiculous robes he wore. She felt fuzzy headed and stupid, and when she automatically reached for her connection to the fade it was sluggish, as though she was out of mana even though her mana reserves were at their peak.

She rolled over and was immediately aware of voices, although they came from a long, long way away. Anders' voice was there, but it was wrong as well - cloudy and thick. And she was tired. So, so tired. It was easy to close her eyes again and drift back into the fade.

Justice was there.

"Justice I thought you were killed!"

"Neria. Do you not remember? I talked to you not one day ago."

She blinked, confused. The fade seemed to bulge inwards, if that was possible, and she felt suddenly nauseous. She swayed, and was caught by the surprisingly warm arms of the fade spirit. They both sank to the blank brown ground of the fade. She stared up at him. "Do you have a face, under that helm, Justice?"

He shrugged. "I do not know, Neria. I have never had cause to look."

She reached up a hand to touch the surface of the helm and it shimmered away. Underneath was a young man who looked vaguely familiar. "Huh," she said, then smiled. "Not bad."

"Neria, you have been hurt," Justice said. "Anders has been trying to heal you. So has the other mage, Fiona. But something is not right."

"Must be a head injury," Neria said. Scraps of endlessly boring lectures from Wynne and several far more entertaining ones from Anders floated back to her, but the information wouldn't coalesce. She was still, so, so tired. "What happens if I go to sleep in the fade, Justice? I've never done that before..."

Justice shook her. "You must _not," _he said forcefully.

"Why not?"

The young man's face was suddenly wracked with fear. "Neria, stay awake. Stay here," he shook her as she felt her eyes begin to close again. _"Stay here."_

* * *

"Fiona, she's awake again!" Anders voice was clearer, but it still sounded odd to her. She blinked up at him, into hazel eyes heavy with exhaustion.

"Anders?" she said. He bit his lip and nodded. "Where are we?"

"Still at the cliff."

"The cliff? Is that where the cave was?"

He let out an explosive breath and she was shocked to see tears drop from his eyes. He nodded, and hastily wiped them away. "Yes. Do you remember what happened?"

"Justice said I was hurt. I figured head injury when I couldn't remember."

He nodded again, then put his palm on her forehead. She felt a gentle, soothing healing coming from him. She suspected he didn't even know he was casting. More tears were gathering in his eyes. "Hey!" she reached up and cupped his cheek. "What's wrong? I'm here now."

He grabbed her hand in his and kissed it. "You weren't making sense," he said then. "Repeating things. Forgetting things. I've seen that happen a few times and... it's usually not good."

She nodded, then tried to sit up. "My magic feels off," she said then. "Fuzzy."

"The templars hit me with a smite," he said, helping her upright. "You were close enough to catch the edge of it as well. It'll be a while before it feels normal again."

She rubbed the back of her neck. "Must have been some smite," she said.

"You'd already been hit, you had no defense against it."

She shook her head, trying to clear the last of the fuzziness. "Justice was in the fade with me. He told me I had to stay awake..."

"I'm glad he's still looking out for you," Anders said. "Neria, I'm so sorry.. we should have..."

She shook her head and squeezed his hand, which was still gripping hers. A noise next to her made her turn her head and she nearly climbed into Anders lap in shock. "What's _that?" _The enormous dog was sitting on its haunches, tongue lolling happily. At her look, it whuffed and the short stump of its tail started to wag madly.

"He's the reason we're alive," Anders said. "His name's Varo."

Neria held out a hand to the animal, who bounded forward and licked it, panting happily.

"I'm afraid he may have bonded to you," an elven man had come up while she was distracted by the mabari. Anders' eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I thought they could only bond to one person?"

The elf shrugged, then smiled at Neria shyly. "I'm Marcus. Varo thought you were my sister. That's why he helped you. But now... " he shook his head. "He's treating you exactly the same as he used to treat her."

Neria looked at the elf again. "You're not Orlesian," she said.

He shook his head. "I was a refugee from Denerim. Came over with the first wave and found work in Val Royeaux. Once the Blight was over I tried to go back but... my employer made it known to me that it would be.. unwise to seek to leave his service."

"Your employer?"

"He's a chevalier. Ser Amaury."

"I'm assuming he has close ties to the Chantry," Anders said.

"His sister is Divine Curator," Marcus said, twisting his lip. Anders rolled his eyes.

"The woman who found our little 'harrowing' clause," he said and she nodded, remembering.

The dog butted its head against Neria's arm and she hesitantly reached out to pat it. His fur was rough and he was warm and solid and she found herself leaning down to rest her cheek on his.

"Humph," Anders said. "I can't see Pounce liking this much."

"Or Bess," Neria said, smiling and lifting her head. "But he _is _cute. Aren't you boy?" Varo cocked his head on one side and grinned at them.

Marcus looked unhappy. "He chose me over Nesiara," he said. "I don't know who he'd choose if he was given that choice again."

"Well, there's an easy way to rectify that," Neria said, raising an eyebrow at Marcus. "We'll take you with us."

Marcus shook his head. "Ser Amaury would never let me leave. He'd hunt you down..."

Anders laughed. "We've got the whole Orlesian Chantry after us and you're worried about one chevalier? Don't. If we get out of this without being burnt at the stake as malificarum we'll conscript you."

"You'll make me a Grey Warden?" Marcus said. "I'm hardly a fighter..."

"You took out that Templar pretty well," Anders said. "And with Varo here... "

Neria was nodding. "Commander Sigrun's been threatening to start a kennel at the keep for ages," she said. She felt connected to the man, Marcus. She imagined he looked like her brother would have looked. Strange, that Varo had mistaken her for his sister. But then, being flat ears, there was a good chance they _were _related, even if he wasn't originally from Denerim.

Marcus was looking down at his hands, his mouth working in honest confusion.

"Varo and I nearly got you killed," he said.

"Happens all the time," Anders said, shrugging, although his fingers found her hand again and squeezed. "Almost getting killed, that is. If we held a grudge against everyone who tried..."

"You kill everyone who tries to kill us, Anders," Neria reminded him gently. "It's a bit hard to hold a grudge against a dead person. Or demon. Or darkspawn."

"I'm not sure I'm going to get away with killing the Grand Divine," he muttered. Marcus was looking somewhat wary of them by now. "Relax, Marcus," Anders said. "No one can blame you for doing your job. And you didn't let them..." he flicked his eyes at Neria then back at Marcus. "You didn't let them kill us. So as far as I'm concerned, we have no issue here."

"And you don't have to be a warden if you don't want to be," Neria jumped in. "It's not an easy life. We can just take you back to your family..."

He clucked at Varo, who looked at him. If a dog could have a stern expression on its face, Varo did. Marcus' mouth twitched. "I don't think Varo would like it if I took him away from you now, Neria," Marcus said. "If you think the wardens will have me, I'd be happy to join. I saw enough during the Blight to know how necessary you people are."

Anders clapped his hands to his thighs and stood. "Well, that's settled then. Now all we have to do is sneak back into Val Royeaux, prove Neria and I aren't malificarum, overthrow the Grand Divine and get back to Ferelden with our skins intact."

Neria looked across to where Fiona and Leliana were talking, had a brief moment of shock when she saw, of all people, the unmistakable figure of Cullen next to them, then back to Anders, Marcus and Varo. She tested her connection to the fade and was aware, very subtly, of Justice, watching over her without interfering - obviously still concerned for her health. With so many on her side, how could they possibly fail?

"Let's get on with it then," she said.


	40. Chapter 40

Sneaking back into Val Royeaux was easier than they anticipated. They weren't so foolish as to go in as a group, and the fact that they had three elves with them actually turned out to be a bit of an advantage. The templars were looking for two apostate mages - and although they had Anders and Neria's description, it took very little effort for Leliana to procure clothing that had him dressed as a noble. Some creative hairstyling on Neria's part (Anders grimaced at the two braids hanging down by his ears and the flyaway hair that kept getting into his face) he was no longer Anders the wanted apostate but Cedric the minor bann from Gwaren. And considering they were looking for an apostate mage and his _female _elven apostate companion, he should be able to get through the gates with Marcus without anyone blinking. Fiona and Leliana would come in as a pair, as would Cullen and Neria. Marcus had left Varo with her, but Anders fingers still twitched at the thought that the Templar would be alone with her.

In a fallow field on the outskirts of Val Royeaux they added the finishing touches to their disguises. Neria in a simple peasant dress, Cullen dressed similarly to Anders and Leliana and Fiona as a lady and her maid. Anders couldn't deny that the Templar cut quite a dashing figure in his court finery and Neria caught him glaring just before they were due to leave. She nudged him in the ribs. "What's eating you?"

"Nothing," he said, fiddling with his braids. She slapped his hand away.

"Don't, you'll pull them out."

"I'd like to," he said. She followed the line of his gaze and rolled her eyes.

"Anders, I was practically alone with him for four years. Why is it a problem _now?" _

"I wasn't around then - and trust me it would have been a problem then as _well. _You can't tell me you don't know how he looks at you..."

"Yes. He's looked at me like that for far more than four years. But he's totally incapable of acting on it. He used to watch me _in the bath _Anders..."

"You are _not _helping my almost uncontrollable urge to murder the man, Neria."

"Varo will rip his throat out if he tries anything," Neria said confidently, burying her fingers in the rough fur on the top of the mabari's head. Anders blinked, flashing back to what had happened to the last man who tried anything with her.

"Yes, he probably will," he said, eyeing the hound with a touch more respect.

"And he _wouldn't any way," _she said. "You don't know Cullen, Anders. And there's only one shem here I like in that way." Neria touched his arm and gave him her most winsome smile, then unceremoniously pulled his head down to hers and kissed him. Not one to waste an opportunity, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet, crushing her to him and deepening the kiss.

"Please, we have work to do," Fiona's prim voice cut through their enjoyment and Anders grinned into Neria's lips, giving her one last squeeze before setting her back on her feet.

He'd given Neria a crash course on how to dampen her background magic way back in Amaranthine before they'd left to visit his family, but he took her over it again. Fiona, unsurprisingly, was already capable enough in that regard. Short of a Templar stopping them and doing a detailed examination they should be well.

At the gates he took several deep breaths and drew himself up haughtily. It wasn't the first time he'd pretended to be something he wasn't, after all. The guards didn't even blink at him. Marcus grinned at him once they were safely inside, laughing at his surprise. "In Orlais, you see what you _expect _to see," he said bitterly. "Words can't express how much is wrong with this place."

"You really hate it here, don't you?"

"At least in Ferelden they _openly _hate you because you're an elf," he said. "Here they'll talk about how much better off their elves are than any others, like we're... _pets _or something. I tell you, after an hour of being talked at by a well meaning Orlesian being beaten every second day by an ignorant Ferelden noble is almost appealing."

"I see your point," Anders said.

He breathed a sigh of relief when they were met by an anxious Caron at the warden compound. Now he just had to hope Neria and her pet Templar made it intact.

* * *

He couldn't even meet her _eyes _any more. Neria sighed in frustration. They were hiding in an abandoned barn, Neria sitting crosslegged in the loft area with Varo's head in her lap, while Cullen paced below. The mabari was extremely comforting. She'd never had pets before but now with Pounce and Bess back in the Vigil she wondered how she'd ever gotten by without them. The thought that they would be bringing the mabari back with them made her heart warm.

She refused to think of what might happen to him, and to Marcus for that matter, if they didn't manage to convince the Chantry of their innocence.

"Cullen, Anders and I really appreciate that you came to find us," she said. Her fourth or fifth attempt at initiating conversation. He winced. _"What, _Cullen? Why are you so..."

"So what?"

"So _Cullen_!" she said. "I thought we'd gotten past this in the Tower..."

"It's been a few years, Neria," he said, smiling a little. "Excuse me if it's hard to get used to your company again."

She smiled at him. "I thought we were friends. Can we be friends again?"

He looked up at her, and his eyes were anguished. "It was my _fault," _he said. "This whole situation..."

"Maker's breath, why does everyone think us getting into trouble is _their _fault?" she said, exasperated, and moved forward to dangle her legs over the edge of the loft. "Can't we be responsible for our own actions sometimes?"

Cullen let out a whuff of laughter at that, but his face was still pained. "Irving wanted me to give you something," he said. "You and...and _him_. He... suspected he wouldn't live through this trip. I didn't know.. when he gave them to me.. that Anders..."

She nodded. "No. Anders didn't know until recently either," she said. "What did Irving leave for him?"

"Well, he did ask me to give it to Anders. Irving left _you _something though..." Cullen turned and rummaged in his pack for a moment, before pulling out a package wrapped in brown paper. He climbed up the rickety ladder to give it to her.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I don't know," Cullen said, shrugging. "Although I suspect it's a spell book of some kind - he had so many..."

She turned it over in her hands. It certainly felt book-like. Deciding she was too curious to wait until they were back at the warden compound she ripped the paper from it and a leather bound volume fell into her hands. It was unadorned, no title. She opened to the first page and ran her fingers over her mentor's familiar handwriting. _First Enchanter Irving. _There was a list of contents in his hand. She scanned the entries until she came to one that made her catch her breath.

_The Rite of Tranquility._

Only the First Enchanter had access to this information. Only he knew the exact process. That he had given it to her... She blinked back sudden tears and brought her fingers to her mouth. Varo whined next to her, tail wagging madly.

"Neria, what is it?" Cullen said, his voice gentle again, full of concern for her. Her friend. One of only two friends she had in the Tower

"Oh, Irving..." she said, her voice choked. She closed the book and hugged it to her chest. There would be time to study it later.

_There would be time._

_

* * *

_

He heard the dog first. Marcus looked up from the book he'd been reading and caught Anders' eye, nodding. Obviously he recognised the bark. Anders let out a whoop of joy and rushed down to the courtyard. Neria flew into his arms and he pressed her to him tightly, giving Cullen a nod of thanks over her head. The Templar nodded back, but he seemed lost. He was technically Knight Commander of the Ferelden Templars. Anders wondered whether he would be allowed to keep that position.

It all depended on what happened in the next few days, he supposed.


	41. Chapter 41

Walking back into the council chamber, shackled in anti-magic bracers, Neria next to him, was possibly the bravest, or the most foolish thing he'd ever done. Fiona was with them, as was Cullen. King Alistair and Queen Miranda. Warden Commander Caron and a _large _contingent of Orlesian wardens, not to mention all of the mage wardens, including those who had been refused the right to vote in the original ballot.

Such a procession had never been seen in Orlais before. The populace had understandably mistaken it for parade, especially when the doors of the Imperial Palace had opened, spewing out not only the King and Queen of Ferelden and their entourage, but the magnificently plumed and polished Imperial Guard surrounding the official Imperial Carriage.

Empress Celene.

* * *

Anders had been dumfounded when Miranda told them of the plan.

"Not that I'm not... stupifyingly grateful, but _why _would the Empress..."

Miranda had smiled at him, and taken her husband's hand. Alistair shrugged. "Politics, my friend," the King of Ferelden said. "Celene wants Duncan to marry her daughter. Celene wants the people of Orlais to believe she is serious about the threat of the darkspawn. Celene, in short, would very much like to have her name tied to the wardens."

"The Chantry has threatened a fundamental right that's been held by the wardens for generations," Caron said. "By attacking you - by calling for your execution, they have contravened not only the right of conscription, but threatened the ability of wardens to do their duty. That there has been a blight so recently works in our favour."

"Is Celene willing to tie herself to _blood mages?" _Anders said.

"You're not blood mages," Caron said.

"No, but the Grand Divine has made damn certain that everyone _thinks _we are."

"Even if you _were _it doesn't change that she's threatened the Grey," Caron said. "We have jurisdiction over our people, no matter what the circumstances. But we're not going there to defend you as blood mages. We're going there to prove you're _not."_

"She won't even let us in to the chamber."

"She will if you're my prisoners," Cullen said.

"Great," Anders said. "So you'll haul us in trussed up for the slaughter.."

"We won't let the Chantry take you, Anders," Caron said. "If it turns out you _are _blood mages - and let me tell you now your King and Queen will take a dim view of it if that is the case - your punishment still rests on our shoulders, not the Chantry's. You are _wardens."_

"Truly, Anders," Miranda's firm voice was soothing in its confidence "the Grand Divine lost this fight when she failed to kill you on the road. Once you and Neria pass your... what is it called, this second harrowing?"

Anders looked at Neria, who swallowed. "The Reaving," she said in a small voice. "It's called the Reaving."

"Once you pass the Reaving I wouldn't be surprised if the Chantry calls for her to be replaced."

Alistair and Cullen both shifted uncomfortably. Miranda looked confused. "Why are you all looking like that?"

"Well, you know how the harrowing has a habit of killing mages?" Alistair said. "The Reaving..." He looked at Anders, who had a very, very clear flash of memory. He shuddered, hard.

Miranda was still looking confused.

"It's worse," he said. He caught Neria's eyes. She'd not had to go through one - Irving had vouched for her after the Jowan incident. Anders on the other hand... "Much, much worse."

* * *

Cullen came to see him. They were to spend the night in the Warden Compound. No one knew they were back - no one save those who were also aware of the next stage of their plan. Neria was in the bathhouse and he was pacing, trying to control his urge to panic. Not for himself - he had done this before and much as he hated to remember it, he was fairly confident he could do it again. But Neria...

The Templar looked apologetic, but then he always looked apologetic. Anders wondered idly for a moment how he was going to deal with discipline amongst the Templars. He supposed he'd probably put forth a different face to someone he hadn't betrayed to the Chantry..

"Cullen," he said.

"Anders. I...I have something for you."

"Oh?"

Cullen didn't waste time, but thrust a package into his hands. "It's from Irving... your father," Cullen said.

It was small and light and Anders weighed it in his hands speculatively. "What is it?" he asked.

Cullen shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "I suspect it might have something to do with... with your relationship..."

Anders flashed him a grin, then tossed the package on the bed. Cullen winced. "Thanks," Anders said.

"Aren't you going to open it?"

"Probably. Not yet though."

"Why not?"

"I suspect it will make me angry. Or confuse me. Or both. I need to be at my best. Facing death tomorrow and all."

Cullen's eyes narrowed and he bit his lip. "I wanted to... I wanted to..."

Anders sat on the bed next to the package and eyed the Templar, who's hands had clenched into fists at his side as he struggled to speak. They'd used to make merciless fun of the poor man in the Tower - his kind, stuttering, foolishness. Neria said the stutter had disappeared after the rebellion - only returning in fits and starts when she did something particularly outrageous. It seemed his current situation had brought something of the old Cullen back, however. Or maybe Anders was more of a thorn in his side than he'd thought.

He _could _be mean to the man. Lord knows he felt inclined to. But what would that accomplish?

"What is it, Cullen?"

The man let out his breath in a rush. "I wanted to apologise," he said.

"For what?"

"This whole situation... I feel responsible."

"From what Neria tells me you were forced to do this by Irving."

"In the end, yes. But at the start... I truly believed she was an abomination - I... I would have killed her, without hesitation, if I hadn't been under orders not to."

Anders felt his lips press into a hard line. "I thought you loved her," he said.

Cullen sagged. Anders supposed he _was _going to be mean to the man after all. "I _did..." _

Anders felt his nostrils flare in anger. "Funny way of showing it," he muttered. The man looked like he was about to cry. Anders rolled his eyes. "Cullen, it's all right. I understand. Neria doesn't hold anything against you. Far be it for me to get angry since it really hasn't done any harm."

"But... the Reaving..."

Anders stood up and started hustling Cullen out of the room. "Let us worry about that," he said. "It's not your problem."

Cullen dug his heels in at the door and turned back to him. "Look after her," he said softly. Anders nodded.

"Always."

Once the Templar was gone Anders heaved a sigh of relief and turned back to his bed. He looked at the package for a long moment before picking it up and tucking it into a pocket of his robes.

Later.

* * *

Neria used a fire spell to keep the water warm for longer, unwilling to leave its gentle embrace. The heat seeped into her bones and her skin started to crinkle, but she didn't care. The bath was a symbol of her freedom - freedom that might well end abruptly tomorrow.

When she finally made her way back to their room she found Anders lying on the bed - one arm behind his head, the other holding up a string for Pounce to bat at. He sat up as she entered and Pounce jumped to the ground, coming up to her and twining himself around her legs. She reached down and picked him up, rubbing her face against his fur and _drinking _in the deep rumble of his purr.

"Mm. I never thought I'd be jealous of Pounce." She looked up to see Anders had both hands behind his head and a gentle smirk on his lips.

"You're not furry enough," she said, smirking back at him. He cocked an eyebrow.

"You insult my manliness," Anders said, plucking at the front of his robe. She put Pounce down and crossed the room quickly, hands suddenly itching to touch him everywhere at once.

He seemed just as eager to touch her and before she knew it they were both naked, pressed against each other on the bed, doing their utmost to forget what was coming.

* * *

The Grand Divine's face was pinched and white with anger. She must have known her only hope was for Neria and Anders to die before they could prove their innocence. It was highly possible - even probable that she would get her wish. But if one of them managed to withstand the Reaving things would look very, very bad for her.

He wished he could hold her hand. It would have made things a little easier. Walking into the council chambers, feeling like a criminal - well, he'd faced large roomfuls of people who despised him before - but knowing what was to come - what they'd _both _have to go through in order to clear their names...

It would be nice to be able to hold her hand.


	42. Chapter 42

_"We don't dispute that the Grand Divine's actions were in her opinion justified we just..."_

_"The Chantry forbids _all_ magic that is not under the direct teachings of the circle..."_

_"Six mages are _dead _as well as Knight Commander Greagior, surely your holiness is not suggesting..."_

_"Their status as wardens is not enough to protect them..."_

_"Blood magic is forbidden..."_

_"Give them the opportunity to prove that this vote was legitimate..."_

_"They should be executed _immediately, _how do we know they're not controlling you at this very _moment!"

_"The Reaving is dangerous enough to kill even the most experienced of mages, surely you're not suggesting they would go through this if they truly were..."_

She was glad they didn't want her to speak for herself. The wrangling was too fast for her to follow, steeped in Warden lore and Chantry doctrine and Circle history. Although she had always been a willing scholar, she had never been a student of politics, and that was what the council had become. Queen Miranda and King Alistair sat grim faced, holding hands as they observed the proceedings. Empress Celene's face was completely unreadable as the Grand Divine's representative and the Warden Commander traded barbs and thinly veiled insults. She knew there was more at stake than her and Anders' lives. The very nature of the Circle would be altered if they were proven innocent and the only way to prove that was to go through the Reaving.

Anders had told her very little about it. "It's different for everyone," he'd said. "They'll make you relive things - the demon will dredge up your most painful memories, not because it _needs _to, but because it has to take some sort of payment for what they're making it do." He shuddered. "I can't lie and say it's going to be all right, Neria."

She shook her head. "I don't want you to lie to me," she'd replied.

"It won't be fast, and it won't be easy," he said then. "But you're strong. You can do it."

The wrangling was coming to an end. It was obvious to everyone that the Grand Divine didn't want them to go through the Reaving because she was afraid of being proven wrong. _So much for faith, _Neria thought. When finally the ritual was deemed necessary she got up and left the room, taking her representative with her. Neria looked at Cullen, worried.

"She doesn't need to be present," Cullen said grimly. "The Knight Commander's word is enough to prove your innocence. If you survive."

The Orlesian First Enchanter came forward, flanked by two mages holding a brazier of raw lyrium. Neria flashed back to her Harrowing and swallowed, nervously. The ritual began.

* * *

_"Hypocrisy, pure and simple," Anders was saying. She could hear his voice but for some reason she couldn't see him. "They forbid blood magic - not that I'm against that so much, it's not nice, I'll agree there, but they use demons. I know only the First Enchanter has the ability to call them, but truly?"_

_"Anders?" He appeared, suddenly, as if he'd always been there. He was at the edge of the cliff - _their _cliff - where he'd always promised to take her but never managed._

_"You'll be fine," he said, wavering a little. "I'll find a way to help you. You'll be fine..."_

_He shimmered and disappeared. _

* * *

_Her father's voice was twisted in fear and anger and she could hear her mother crying in the background. "She hurt my _son_! She's a monster..."_

_"But she's just a child! _

_"The Chantry says..."_

_"I can't believe you would..." the voices were fading as they moved away from the cellar. Neria had her hands on the wooden door and her head resting against it, tears flowing from her eyes. _

_"I didn't mean it mamae. I didn't mean it..."_

_"My word is final, she's locked in there until the Templars come..."_

_Neria sunk to the step, wrapping her small, seven year old arms around her knees and rocking back and forth. "I didn't mean it..."_

* * *

_Tobias pressed her against the bookshelf, devouring her mouth hungrily as she wrapped her legs around his waist, his lithe form desperate and straining as he thrust into her. She bit her lip to stop from crying out at the initial pain - _this _was what it was like then - and the pleasure she thought should follow but didn't - there wasn't enough time as Tobias let out a gasp and stopped moving, resting his head against her neck. She stroked his dark hair and traced a finger over his ear, catching her breath and letting her feet settle back onto the floor. There would be blood - she knew - and her healing wasn't good enough, but Tobias kissed her eyelids and let loose a spell that took away the traces of pain she felt._

_"I'm sorry," he said._

_"Don't be stupid, there's nothing to be sorry for."_

_He laughed, then tensed as they both heard the unmistakable tramp of mail-clad feet. He kissed her hurriedly and adjusted his robes. "You go first," she whispered. He nodded and picked up the books he'd been carrying before they'd met and sauntered out of the alcove. _

_"Morning Cullen!" his cheerful voice reached her. She covered her mouth to hide a giggle._

* * *

_She sat on the bed, holding his journal in her hands. She couldn't bring herself to read it - she never would, she knew. There had always been something more - something she didn't know about her lover. Something that drove him to deep periods of depression that she couldn't find a way to cure. He would snap at her, and everyone around her. Sometimes she'd find him shivering in the apprentice quarters, too terrified to leave._

_The next day he'd be normal - sunny, even manically happy and they would go back to being delirious and in love and everything would be magnificent._

_But then he had gone to his Harrowing. _

_"What do you mean, he's not coming back?" her voice was small and frightened and full of hurt. Jowan pulled her close and stroked her hair._

_"Sometimes they don't come back," he said softly. "I'm so sorry, Neria."_

_She let the tears flow again._

* * *

_"No! I won't let you hurt her!" Jowan lifted the dagger and plunged it into his palm and Neria found herself backing away in shock and horror. The blood cloud felled everyone in front of him and Neria was mute. _

_"Jowan?" she whispered, but no one was listening to her. Lily was backing away, denouncing him... but this was _Jowan _- he was her _friend...

_When he was gone she felt like there was no one left._

_

* * *

_

It took her a moment to realise she was in the fade. The visions had been so real, but the shimmering air around her and the brown cracked ground beneath her was too familiar. She could feel another presence and turned towards it, hoping against hope to see Anders, or perhaps Justice... instead, Jowan stood before her.

It was not the Jowan from her vision. This was Jowan as he was now. Tranquil. Blank. Expressionless.

"Strange form to choose," she forced strength into her voice. "Jowan can't access the fade any more. You must have known I'd know you weren't my friend."

The demon grinned - something else Jowan could no longer do, and lifted its hands, examining them. "There is so much more in you to explore," it said, and its voice was Jowan's as well. "I think it might be worth keeping you for a little while."

"They'll kill me if you do. And if I die, so do you."

He tilted his head. "True," he stepped closer and shimmered, taking the form of Tobias instead of Jowan this time. She flinched, despite halfway expecting it. "But they'll reward me _more _if I find you have the taint of blood magic on you." He sniffed, an entirely animal gesture. "I cannot smell it on you, but perhaps that's because I haven't gotten _close _enough yet..." She took a step back, the demon's arms were reaching for her and the thought of them actually touching her skin had her shuddering with disgust. "You helped Jowan escape - obviously you don't think blood magic is _bad _the way your friend does..."

_Anders..._

As though it could hear her thoughts - which it probably could, she realised, the demon's form wavered again until Anders stood before her, smirking.

"I'm not a blood mage. You know that."

The Anders-demon was close enough that she would be able to smell him - had it truly been her lover. Instead all she could smell was the faint acridity of lyrium - fade-smell, she called it. She closed her eyes as he took her face in his hands and leaned down, again smelling deeply.

It hissed and threw her back, taking its regular form. Neria, from the ground, raised an eyebrow. _"Desire demon?" _she said. She repressed a sudden urge to laugh. "I feel insulted."

The purple woman's eyes narrowed. "You underestimate us," she said. "It will eventually be your downfall."

Neria grinned, feeling a sudden surge of triumph. The demon hissed again and disappeared. She called a portal and stepped through, expecting to find herself back in the council chamber.

Instead she found herself outdoors - a familiar castle in front of her - face to face with a young, blond boy - about fifteen, she guessed, with tied back hair and hazel eyes that she knew better than she knew her own.

He fixed her with a suspicious glare. "Who are _you?"_


	43. Chapter 43

She stepped back in shock and looked behind her, hoping to find her portal but seeing nothing save the cobbled street and tidy buildings of Highever. The walls of Castle Cousland loomed not far from where she was standing. She looked down to find she was dressed in regular peasant clothing - a typical elven servant on an errand for her master or mistress - totally unremarkable.

"I asked who you were," the boy in front of her said, then gave her a slight grin that made her heart skip. "Of course, it's probably none of my business, but you _are _blocking my way."

"Ah... sorry. Uh... "

"I don't recognise you from the alienage - are you lost?"

She closed her eyes and shook her head, willing the image to disappear. What possible reason would the demons have for showing her an adolescent Anders? Why was she back in his home town? He looked around fifteen - the age he'd been when...

_Maker, what are they trying to do?_

When she opened her eyes again Anders - or the Anders demon - had his hands on his hips and was looking down at her, exasperated. "Fine," he said. "If you don't want to talk.."

"Anders are you coming or what?" Another young voice floated to them.

He turned to go and she reached out an arm to grab him. "Wait," she said. "I'm sorry. Actually I _am _lost. I'm ..." she took a breath. Her first instinct was that this was the demon, trying to trick her, but if it _was _Anders... "I'm... Neria." He was looking at her hand with wide eyes as she let a trickle of her power leak out to him. He looked up into her face and she saw a ghost of what she hoped was recognition in his eyes before he nodded once, curtly.

"My father has a shop," he said softly. "He might be able to help you with what you need."

She allowed herself a breath. "Thank you," she said.

"Anders!"

"Go without me!" Anders called over her shoulder. Maker, he was so _tall _- not nearly as tall as _her _Anders, but she still only reached his chin and he wasn't even fully grown... "This way," he said.

She followed him, still totally at a loss. He _felt _like her Anders. The power she'd let loose had met with his and she _knew _that power - knew it almost better than she knew her own. But then again - the demon had them _both. _For all she knew, it could imitate his power as perfectly as it imitated his personality.

But _why _was she _here?_

The Highever illusion obviously came from his head and not hers. There were differences - big ones. The houses were cruder and smaller, the streets in some disrepair. It was the Highever from Anders' childhood - a place she'd never seen. So they had to have him here _somewhere._

A chilling thought hit her. Maybe he was trapped. Maybe he needed her help. But why would the demon allow her entrance into a world where...

_It was all I could do._

The voice was faint but she knew it. _Justice wait! IS it Anders?_

_You must help him. _The spirit's voice faded. _They keep me out. I cannot..._

She made a frustrated sound that earned a curious look from Anders - if it _was _Anders - but she shook her head and followed him.

The shop was smaller - she remembered that Anders had said they'd expanded into the building next door - but it was in good repair - obviously prosperous. Anders pushed open the door and entered, calling out as he did so.

Felix was behind the counter, perched on a stool, polishing what looked like a ring. Shelves behind the counter were stocked with poultices and potions, but the counter itself held display cases filled with jewels and various enchanted items. Anders' stepfather was a very handsome man - strong lines in his dark-skinned face and kind lines around his dark eyes. The Felix she knew had an air of melancholy around him that this man lacked. He looked up as they entered and raised an eyebrow, and his expression almost exactly matched his stepson's.

"Anders. You've made a friend?"

There was another customer browsing - a youngish man dressed in traveling clothes, and Anders nodded. "Oh, Papa, this is a friend of mine from the alienage - Neria - she wanted to ask Mama about her poultices..."

Felix looked briefly puzzled, but Anders put his finger to his lips and the older man raised an eyebrow. "You'd better take her into the back, then," Felix said. Anders nodded and hustled her into the back room of the shop, where a little girl _Maeve, _Neria thought and a boy of about eight - _Jairo - _were paying with blocks on the floor. It was the same room where Neria had first met Felix - with subtle differences - a different rug in front of the fireplace, a basket in the corner for some kind of animal - different throw rugs on the chairs.

"Anders, Anders, Anders!" Maeve and Jairo leapt to their feet as they entered and started crowding their brother. "Who's she?"

"Why are you back?"

"Henry said you were going to play with Tia.."

"Then he said that playing wasn't the proper word for it. What _is _the proper word Anders?"

Anders laughed and knelt down so he was on Jairo's level. He held the two children at arms length and waited for them to stop talking. Neria's heart clenched tight for a moment as she saw how much affection there was in his gaze as he looked at them. "This is a friend," he said. "And I need to talk to her alone for a minute. Can you go out front and play for a little while?"

The two dark heads nodded solemnly, although Neria noticed Maeve's lips were curled in a hint of a smirk. "Come on Jairo," the little girl said, and yanked her brother's hand, dragging him behind her as she ran out of the room.

"Sit down," Anders said to her - motioning her to a chair. "You're an apostate?" he said.

She bit her lip. "In a manner of speaking," she said. "Anders... uh... " How could she explain? This version of Anders hadn't gone through his harrowing - had little or no knowledge of the Circle and its rituals. Yet she had to believe the information was in there somewhere. "I used to be at the circle... but..."

Noises in the front of the shop had them both looking towards the door, which opened seconds later, admitting a woman. Neria got to her feet, realising immediately who it was. Soft brown hair framed a face that was remarkably similar to Anders' for all its colouring. Her dark eyes took in her son first, and Neria could see the weariness in them, before lighting on Neria and opening wide in shock.

"Mama... what's wrong?" Anders rushed forward and took his mother's shoulders in his hands, guiding her to the chair Neria had just vacated.

_They're going faster - trying to stop you from helping... _Justice's voice was still faint and Neria felt panic gripping her.

"Joscelyn," she said, with a confidence she didn't feel. "Thank the Maker you're here."

"What, you _know _my mother?" Anders stepped back and glared at Neria suspiciously. If she was right - if what Anders had told her was accurate, _this _was the moment he found out about her illness - he would be swept up in the emotion of trying to heal her again and she couldn't _afford _that - he needed to realise this was not real and escape with her before the Templars in the council chamber decided they had taken too long...

"Who are you?"

"Joscelyn, it's Neria. I'm from the Tower. Anders is in the middle of a Reaving. He doesn't know it, but it's more important than anything that he get out of here."

"A _Reaving?" _It was possible the real Joscelyn would have no knowledge of the ritual, but _Anders _did, _Anders _had gone through this before, and they were obviously lifting her from _his _mind. From what she knew of the Joscelyn Anders remembered, she would want to do everything possible to help her son. She could be an ally here if only...

"What in the Maker's name..."

"Anders, shush," Joscelyn snapped at her son and fixed Neria with a calculating glare. "Who are you really?"

"Let's just say your son is important to me," she said, willing the woman to understand.

"What's a Reaving?" Anders said.

His mother motioned him to her, and sat him down on his knees in front of the chair. "Anders you have to think," she said softly. "You _know _this woman. _Where do you know her from?"_

Anders looked up at Neria, his face anguished. "What is going _on?"_

"She's right, Anders," Neria said. "You do know me." _Oh, you know me! _"Please try to remember, it's very important."

Something flickered across his face and he bit his lip, trying - oh she could see how hard he was _trying..._

The room shimmered around them and disappeared. Warm wooden floors were replaced with bare stone, the crackling of the fire with the slow drip of water. It was dark - so dark she could barely see. As her eyes adjusted, however, she could see a small patch of lighter grey high in the wall.

_A cell... _It took her a second to realise there was no reason for her to be in the dark and she called forth a spell wisp and set it to float above her, bathing the small room in pale green light.

"Well, as hallucinations go, you're a pretty good one," came a sardonic voice from across the room.

She spun to see him sprawled on the small cot, dressed in apprentice robes - worn, but clean, with his hands clamped in front of him. He looked younger - of course, but thinner - haggard around the eyes. His hair was loose and flopped into one of his eyes as he sat up. "Wait, I know you, don't I? You're... well I've never had _this _fantasy before..."

She put her hands on her hips, suddenly annoyed. "You never did have good taste when you were here," she said shortly. He frowned. "Oh, for the sake of the Maker, Anders. This is the fade. You're going through a Reaving. You need to snap out of it."

He eyed her as though she'd gone insane. "I've finally cracked, haven't I?" he said.

"No. You think you're in solitary confinement. You're not. That was... nine years ago? Ten? You're _out _now Anders. You're _free."_

He snorted and shook his head. "This isn't the first time the demons have tried to convince me of something," he said.

"Why would I want to convince you that you're in the fade?" she said. "If I were a demon, I'd be trying to convince you you _weren't.."_

He pursed his lips. "True, but demons are..." he waggled his fingers, "demonically devious. Perhaps you're trying to double-bluff me."

She cocked her head on one side. "You told me once that the fade doesn't smell," she said. "What can you smell, now?"

He sat up a little straighter then, his eyes narrowing. "I told you...?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "I end up with _you...?"_

She resisted an urge to slap him. "Orlais. We're in Orlais. The Grand Divine is trying to have us branded blood mages. Hence, Reaving."

"But the Reaving was nothing _like _this..."

She shrugged. "Different demons have different methods."

The room started to shimmer. Anders looked around. Neria lunged forward and grabbed his wrist. _"Remember," _she said. "Whatever they try to show you next. _Remember."_

The room vanished and they were suddenly in the deep roads. She gasped. Anders had described the Mother to her, but she'd never imagined the sheer _noise _of it. Anders was right next to her, Spellfury raised as he called down fire on the monster in front of him. She grabbed his arm and he looked down at her, recognition flaring.

"Run!" she screamed at him. They started back down the path, away from the mother, only to have the ground shimmer and change again and they were back in the Vigil - the courtyard and Nathaniel was standing in front of them, a limp form in his arms Neria had no trouble recognising as herself...

"Anders I'm _right here," _she pulled him to face her and he shook himself.

"Neria, what's _happening?"_

"The Reaving, Anders. We need to get _out _of here..."

Another shimmer - and Neria was again looking at herself, this time being ploughed into the ground by a gauntleted fist. _Oh, that's how I got the head injury... _she had time to think before she felt herself yanked away by a strong arm.

"Right, Reaving," Anders said as they ran, the attacking Templars momentarily confused by the appearance of another Neria. "How is it _you're _here?"

"Justice," she said. They were making for the trees. "He managed to get me in here with you once I defeated my demon."

"You defeated yours on your own?"

She grinned at him. They were in the shelter of the trees and they paused to catch their breath. "So what now? Do we call a portal?"

Anders shook his head. "I'll have to face my demon as well," he said. "Otherwise the portal won't work."

"So how do we do _that?"_

"You wait," came a voice from behind them. They both turned, slowly, to see the enormous form of a pride demon looming amongst the trees.


	44. Chapter 44

Anders swallowed and glanced down at Neria. Some things were still fuzzy, but _she _wasn't - the dark hair, the beautiful dark eyes and the determined expression were all so familiar. _A Reaving. Maker's breath - Orlais, the Council... _why was it so hard to get it straight in his head? And a _pride _demon? The last Reaving he'd gotten a desire demon.

"This is my demon, right?" he muttered to Neria. "What did you get?"

She didn't take her eyes off the enormous form in front of them. "Desire," she said.

He snorted. "Huh. Wonder why I got the upgrade."

She glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. "Do you _really?" _He frowned at her, but she was looking back at the hulking form in front of them. "Why is it just _standing_ there?"

Anders examined the demon, who was indeed, simply standing and waiting. "You don't want to fight?" Anders said. The demon spread what passed for its arms.

"The longer I keep you here, the more likely I shall keep you forever," it said, its deep rumbling voice surprisingly calm.

"I take it you've done Reavings before," Anders grumbled. "Well, we're not staying, so you'd better defend yourself."

The demon threw back its head and laughed and its form changed - and Anders' mother stood before him. He rolled his eyes. "Why do they always try _that _trick," and raised his hands to strike.

Neria's laughter joined his as they bombarded the demon with spells. It continued to shift forms - Tobias, Neria's elven lover, Maeve, Jairo, Felix, two elves Anders guessed were Neria's parents, _Oghren, Miranda, Nathaniel, _but they'd done this too many times, the Fade had lost its power over them and before long the demon shifted back into its old form.

"You win," it said, before fading away.

"I never know if we've actually killed them or just sent them running away for a while," Anders mused, brushing hair out of his eyes and grinning down at Neria, who grinned back.

"So are we done?" she asked.

"Indeed," a new voice came to them. Justice - his helm gone and the strong features and dark hair of a young man exposed. "Although you should be aware they tried to cheat you. The demons were primed with more information than usual. As such I doubt my intervention will be mentioned, but should it be.."

"We'll have something to throw back at them," Neria said, satisfaction evident in her voice.

"Thank you, Justice," Anders said, looking at him curiously. "What's with the face?"

The spirit lifted a hand to touch it, smiling slightly. An odd expression - completely unlike any he'd seen the spirit wear before - especially considering the only times he'd seen the spirit able to make expressions were when he was inhabiting other people - wistful and amused all at once. "I never knew I had one," he said.

Anders took in the dark eyes and full lips. He was very _very _familiar looking... but something else as well... "Kristoff," he said finally. "You look like a combination of Neria and Kristoff. So I would hazard a guess that you _didn't _have a face before now."

Neria was smiling. "I'm flattered," she said.

"You should go," Justice said. "I will see you again." Anders reached out and shook Justice's hand, before Neria gave a small sound and wrapped her arms around the ghostly body. Justice's face took on an expression of almost comic surprise and Anders couldn't repress the laugh that shook free of him as Neria hugged the spirit.

"Thank you," she said, her voice slightly muffled against Justice's breastplate. "You're a true friend."

The spirit looked down at the top of Neria's head, bafflement and pleasure replacing surprise. Anders mimed giving a hug and the spirit awkwardly put his arms around the tiny elf and patted.

"Come on you," Anders said then. "Portal time."

She nodded and released Justice, calling forth a portal at the same time. Once again, they took hands and went through it together.

* * *

There were few things more disconcerting than coming to consciousness with the point of a sword pressed into one's throat, although Pounce's fish breath was probably high on that list and something Anders experienced with regularity. This was the third time he'd come to this way, however, and he raised an eyebrow at the helm of the Templar holding the weapon, convinced it didn't get better with repetition.

"They're awake!" the voice was muffled by the metal that encased it and Anders was reminded of the first time he'd heard Justice speak, in the Fade in the Blackmarsh that was.

If he never had to enter the fade again, he would be a happy man.

The implications of their awakening was rippling through the council chamber. If they were awake, they had passed their Reaving. If they had passed their Reaving, they weren't blood mages.

If they weren't blood mages, the Grand Divine had called down retribution on innocent mages and templars. If they weren't blood mages, the proposal to decentralise the mage's towers had in fact, legitimately passed.

Anders slowly sat upright, looking across the brazier of now used lyrium to see Neria doing the same. The two First Enchanters who had conducted the ritual were both stepping back from the centre of the chamber, obviously to take their places with their fellow mages.

The rumble of voices became a roar, then a slow clap started somewhere near Miranda and Alistair, that was taken up by the entire chamber. As Anders and Neria got to their feet, cheers joined the claps and several shouts could be heard from the warden's section. Anders caught Neria's eye and grinned at her, then, because some things are impossible to resist, he clasped her hand in hers and lifted it in the air in a gesture of triumph, and dropped them both into as flamboyant a bow as he could manage, unsteady and weary as he was.

_Take that, your holy crankiness, _he thought, then pulled Neria close into an embrace that was fierce and strong.

* * *

Back at the warden compound he was caught up by Miranda and Alistair, giving them an account of what had transpired in the fade, and so when he slipped up to their room she was there before him. She was cross legged on the bed, a large book propped between her knees as she popped what looked like cherries into her mouth from a bowl on the bed next to her. She looked so much the picture of the diligent Circle mage that he had to clamp down on an almost irresistible urge to ravage her without warning.

"What's the book?" he asked instead, lightly.

She looked up and smiled at him with such genuine delight that he felt his heart lurch. "Irving gave it to me," she said, closing it and passing it to him, shifting up on the bed to make room for him and picking up the bowl of cherries. There was another bowl on the side table into which she was skillfully spitting the pips. He raised an eyebrow at her. "What?" she said. "Jowan and I used to have competitions," she explained. "It was so rare to get fresh cherries in the Tower - when we managed to pilfer some we liked to make a ritual of it."

He smiled, thinking of her and the dark haired mage as teenagers, taking simple delight in something precious. "I bet you two were complete terrors," he said.

"Oh, Jowan didn't usually pick _me _to get into trouble with," she said. "He had other friends who were more willing to break the rules."

"But he asked you to help him escape the Tower," Anders pointed out.

Neria nodded, chewing her lip thoughtfully. "I always wondered why," she said.

"Maybe he trusted you the most."

Her lips turned down at the corners. "Much good it did him."

Anders looked down at the book, then opened it and scanned the contents. "A gift from Irving, you say? Cullen gave me something from the old man as well."

"Really? What?"

He felt in his pocket for the small packet and took it out without looking, still studying the tome. "What did he give you this for?" he murmured. "Did he want you to take over as first enchanter? Why give you these rituals?"

She had gone tense, he realised, and he looked up to see her studying him intently, lower lip caught between her teeth. "The Rite of Tranquility is in there," she said slowly. "I... thought he might..."

"Might what?"

"I thought he might have wanted me to reverse it," the words spilled out in a rush.

Anders eyes opened wide and he shut the book hastily. The Rite of Tranquility. When he'd found out about it, in the Tower, he'd nearly screamed in horror. That some mages actually went through it _willingly..._

"Have you looked at it?" he said. She nodded.

"I don't see why it wouldn't work," she said. "It would need... a mage with excellent healing though." She wasn't going to ask him, he realised. He put the book behind them on the bed and took her hand.

"Well," he said. "It's a good thing I'm around then, isn't it?" She lifted her eyes, which were full, he noticed, and smiled tremulously for a second, before looking back down at his other hand.

"So, what did your daddy give _you?"_

He poked his tongue out at her and dropped her hand, pulling on the string that held the small package closed. A bundle of paper fell out, together with a single, ancient, brass key.

_Letters from the dead, _he thought, seeing the writing on the folded paper. His own name, in Irving's hand. _Why do I keep getting letters from the dead?_

He opened it and started to read.


	45. Chapter 45

_And so we come to the end! Thank you so much everyone who's been reading and reviewing. Special thanks to Amhran Comrac for her continuing feedback, ScaryLady for her invaluable (and extremely discreet) grammatical pointers and the ladies on the Anders thread Cave_Fatuam, Avilia, Sarah and every other regular who has listened to me bitching about things that were giving me trouble. Big thanks to Galagraphia and her amazing pencils - her sketches of Anders especially inspire me to write more and more and more. My regular reviewers here - Piceron, Eva Galana, Naomis, Zute and so many others who have been so lovely as to comment on this story. And also thanks to all of you who read and lurked - I didn't get a chance to say you're ace to your face, but you are! (This is beginning to feel like an oscars speech). In any case, I'm done with Neria and Anders for a little while, and it makes me sad. _

_My new fic, Blood Wound will take Fractures' update slot. THANK YOU EVERYONE!_

_

* * *

_

_Dear Anders,_

The Grand Divine stepped down over the fiasco. Neria and Anders - and the other mage wardens - had a party that night. Anders danced with her in the grand hall under the twin griffons and hoped like anything it was the last time they'd ever have to set foot in the stupid country. As he spun her around the dance floor, her dark eyes flashing and her dress flaring, he thought he must be the luckiest man alive.

_It seems strange to be writing to you - I always thought it wouldn't matter to me, what you thought of me, but it seems I was wrong. You don't get to my age without being able to admit that you were wrong about something. It's a shame I didn't realise how much I cared until it was really too late to do anything about it._

The trip back to Ferelden was swift and uneventful. Marcus and Varo stuck close to Neria - the elf seemed keen to take the joining once they reached the Vigil - he would make a valuable warden and Alistair had promised to send a bitch to the keep so they could start their own kennel. He was a good man, Anders felt, and Neria seemed to take comfort in his presence.

_Joscelyn was the most self-assured woman I ever met - in or out of the Tower. She was beautiful, too, but I am certain you know this. I was not a young man when we met, and I was arrogant. I believed she loved me and would come with me to the Tower. I was never more surprised when she laughed in my face at the suggestion. I was more surprised when she threatened to kill me should I tell anyone of her power. _

_Needless to say, I did neither. Instead I left her there, not knowing at that stage that she was pregnant, and truly, not caring either way._

They stopped only briefly in Amaranthine, Neria not wanting to waste any time. She checked in with Bess - the giant queen spider seemed - as far as he could tell - happy to see her - before they set out with Cullen - now Knight Commander Cullen, and First Enchanter Torrin back to the Tower. Torrin was coldly formal with both Neria and Anders and Anders felt no reason to alter his impression of the man from his Tower days as a fussy old busybody - but he wasn't a cruel man, and he was capable. The Tower would need that capability in the months to come.

_When you were born she wrote to me, without telling me where she was. She didn't fail to mention she was married to another man, or that she had no desire to ever see me again, but she did tell me your name and ask that I watch over you should you ever have the misfortune (her phrasing, not mine) to be sent to the Tower. I did look for her, and for you, but I know now that you were traveling Ferelden and almost impossible to track. She was always more clever than I._

Once they reached the Tower they had to invoke the right of conscription. Torrin was enraged - frothing at the mouth angry with them both for keeping the true purpose of their trip from him, but Cullen - Cullen simply smiled. Anders regretted, slightly, that he never got the chance to know the man better than he had, but it was difficult to talk to someone who continually looked at Neria the way Cullen did.

Before they'd left the Tower, Cullen had allowed him into Irving's study, where the brass key he'd been given fitted the lock of a small, ancient chest. Its contents were varying degrees of useful and interesting - with one small woodcut of a young woman, holding a baby in her arms, that Anders ran a finger over in wonder. It had been made with magic, he knew, although he'd never seen his mother do anything else of the like. The detail was so intricate and lifelike that he almost felt he could smell her scent.

The woodcut now sat in a pocket of his robes, close to his heart.

They were three, then, on the trip back, although their companion's presence made things a little awkward and Neria was as tense as a strung bowstring the entire trip.

_I stopped you from being made tranquil twice. I apologise, profusely, for the year you spent in solitary confinement, but truly your only other option was death. If I had been able, I would have helped you escape earlier than I did, but not even Greagior could bend the rules that much for me. He knew about you, you see. There wasn't much that Greagior did not know, before. _

Back at the Vigil, Anders and Neria worked solidly for nearly a month on a method to reverse the ritual. When finally they were satisfied enough to try it, Neria was almost frantic with nerves. If they failed, Jowan would almost certainly be killed. If they succeeded, he would have to go through the joining almost immediately. It had been quite some work, keeping his presence at the Vigil a secret. It would not do for King Alistair to find out their plans - the former Templar had always been firm in his opinion of malificarum.

She begged him to administer the treatment and the joining at once - should it succeed. He and Sigrun agreed - there was no point in returning Jowan to her unless he survived both processes.

_I've given Neria the means to reverse the Rite of Tranquility. You will have to help her - her healing was never as good as yours. I am sorry, for so many things. I hope in some way this letter, the chest I have left for you, and my gift to her can go a small way towards making up for what I have cost you._

_Irving._

_

* * *

_

"I just have to drink darkspawn blood, then?"

Anders nodded at the dark haired mage as Sigrun finished mixing the concoction. "I imagine with what you've already gone through that won't be too much trouble."

Jowan grinned. "You wouldn't be wrong," he said. "You know - I never knew you in the Tower. Except by reputation... you don't really strike me as Neria's type."

Anders shrugged. "People change," he said.

"You, or her?"

"Just live through this and you'll find out."

* * *

Sigrun handed Jowan the goblet and the man eyed the liquid inside, before gulping it down.

Sigrun, Nate, Felix, Marcus and Oghren all came to their quarters after to celebrate.

"And _then _she told me she would never _ever _go near another man again. So you can _imagine _what I said to _that..."_

"Something you _really shouldn't _be saying in front of my current.. ah.."

"Man?"

Anders watched the two dark heads close together, the palpable aura of happiness that surrounded his lover making his own insides warm with more than the generous amount of alcohol already buzzing through his system. He stroked the ginger fur of the cat on his lap and let his head rest back against his chair, his eyes drifting closed, the pleasant hum of his friends' voices soothing him towards sleep.


End file.
